


The Doppelgänger

by HeidiW



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiW/pseuds/HeidiW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to In The Time We Have, this story presupposes that the Epilogue in the previous fic never took place (for obvious reasons). Lara charges Elsie with an impossible task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lara's Request

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 1

She was eating lunch in Gellis’ office when Zack came in brandishing a visibly stained first edition of Tolstoy’s _Anna Karenina_.

Elsie’s dropped her fork into her macaroni. “Oh…my…God!”

Gellis’ mouth hung open. “Oh, not again!”

Zack set the stained book on the corner of Gellis’ desk and ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair.

“I knocked over my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“What were you thinking??” asked Gellis, her cheeks flushing angrily. “Zack, you know the rules, no eating or drinking when handling inventory!”

“I, uh, yeah,” said the intern nervously. “My bad.”

Elsie slouched back in her chair. She liked Zack, which made his latest transgression all the more frustrating. He was a personable sort, hardworking and generally reliable, but he had the unfortunate curse of having inherited the klutz gene.

This was the second book he’d damaged in the last three months. Elsie and Gellis had miraculously managed to save his previous literary victim, an original edition of _Pride and Prejudice_ , only because the leather binding had been an almost identical hue to the splattered spaghetti. Fletcher had been none the wiser.

But this – the canvas binding was definitely not leather, and it was soaked through, the bottom corner of its light tan cover stained a dark brown. They couldn’t possibly slip this one under the rug.

“An ideas?” asked Elsie, looking to her raven-haired friend. 

“I don’t know,” replied Gellis, seemingly at a loss. “We can take it to our binder and see what their people can do, but…honestly, I’m not optimistic.”

“I’m really sorry about this,” said Zack, shifting uncomfortably. “I thought the mug was spill proof, but the top popped off, and –”

Elsie’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the incoming caller.

_Lara!!_

“Sorry guys,” she said excitedly as she scrambled from the office and into the hall. “Gotta take this…”

“Wuss!” called back Gellis.

Elsie ran down to one of the gallery’s quiet rooms and dashed inside, closing the door behind her.

“Hey girl!” she said brightly as the took the call. 

“Hey,” said the familiar voice of Lara Croft. “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time?”

Elsie smiled. “Are you kidding? It’s never a bad time to hear from you, Lara. What's up?”

“I know it’s midday for you,” continued Lara, “I don’t want to interrupt you in your work –”

“Interrupt away!”

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble --"

“Oh, for – I don’t work in a gulag!” exclaimed the American. “Come on girl, talk to me!”

She could hear the smile in Lara’s voice.

“All right, then,” said the Englishwoman. “As it happens, I’m calling to ask a favour.”

The blonde slid into the small room’s lone chair. “Now I'm intrigued.”

“It’s…a really big favour,” clarified the brunette, her voice hesitant.

“Oooo, even better,” returned Elsie, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Seriously, Elsie,” continued the archaeologist. “I’m asking a lot…and please don’t hesitate to say no if it’s not conven–”

“Lara, come on!” lamented the blonde. “Geez, you know I’d rip out my own liver for you girl!”

“I know,” replied Lara seriously. “And that's precisely what I'm afraid of. Just promise me you won’t automatically agree to what I’m asking, all right?"

Elsie groaned in frustration. “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll give it serious thought…satisfied?”

Silence.

“Attention K-Mart shoppers,” said the American, tapping her phone for emphasis.

A sigh. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with this…”

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that, okay?” returned Elsie. “Will you spill the beans already, you’re starting to scare me!”

“Fair enough,” said Lara. “It’s just that…I was wondering if…I mean, if you’d be willing to, of course…and only if it’s not too much –”

“I’ll do it.”

She could hear the brunette gag over the phone. 

“Bloody Hell, Elsie! You promised you’d think it over!” 

“Yeah, well, I got tired of waiting,” countered the blonde. “So why don't you just tell me what I’ve just agreed to do?”

“You’re impossible!”

“Totally incorrigible,” agreed Elsie, grinning.

“Fine then…but you might not like what I’m going to say,” said the brunette.

“Out with it, already!” returned Elsie in exasperation.

She could hear the Englishwoman take a deep breath.

“I’m hoping…you might be able to help someone,” she finally said. There was an earnestness to Lara’s tone that worried the American.

“Lara…are we talking about Sam?”

“No, not Sam,” said the brunette. “You don’t know her. She’s…an acquaintance…of sorts…”

“Of sorts?” said Elsie cautiously. “You either know her or you don’t?”

“I…ran into her last week during my expedition to Tibet,” explained Lara.

“She’s in Tibet?” asked the American. “I didn’t realize this was going to involve that kind of travel…”

“It won’t,” assured Lara. “At the moment she’s here with Sam and me…but…”

“And this is someone you just met??”

Lara hesitated.

“Well…properly met, yes,” said the brunette. “It’s just…she has no one, Elsie…no friends or family…nowhere to call home…”

“Ouch,” said the blonde truthfully. “That totally sucks…”

“Yes…yes it does,” agreed Lara. “And in truth…I feel partly responsible for her…but to keep her here would be, well, problematic.”

“And you’d like me to take her in?”

“Elsie…you have a way of reaching people,” said the archaeologist. “I don’t know how else to say it…and I think that’s exactly what she needs right now. I’m not asking that you shelter her long-term, of course, just…until she can figure out what to do with her life…”

“Wow,” said Elsie, sinking back into the chair. “I mean, sure, Lara, if you think I can help…does she speak English at all?”

“Oh, yes,” clarified the Englishwoman. “Fluently, in fact. She’s not Tibetan, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…”

“What’s her name?”

“Er…we’re working on that,” replied Lara. 

“Working on that?” asked the blonde in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are we talking about an amnesia victim here?”

“No, nothing like that,” returned the archaeologist. “It’s…complicated, Elsie. I think she’d be in a better position to explain her situation…”

“Hmm,” mused the American. “Now you’ve really got me intrigued…okay, send her over!”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” replied Elsie. “I’m a sucker for hard luck cases. Just let me know when she comes so I can pick her up at the airport –”

“You won’t have to do that,” interjected Lara a little too quickly. “I‘ll make the necessary arrangements to have her dropped off at your door.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Is this because of my car?”

“Of course not!” blurted Lara. “Your car is…lovely.”

A chuckle. “You’re still a pathetic liar, Lara Croft.”

A sigh. “Sorry,” lamented the brunette. “It’s just…this is all going to be new to her, Elsie. I just wanted to minimize the shock…”

“Ouch!” returned the blonde. “I will have you know that my car successfully gets me to work four out of every five days.”

That caused the Englishwoman to burst into laughter, a sound that never failed to get Elsie’s heart fluttering.

“Oh, I do miss you, Elsie,” said Lara. 

“I miss you too, girl,” replied the American truthfully, curling her toes in delight. 

“Thank you so much for this.”

“Hey, Lara?”

“Yes?”

“You wouldn't be trying to match me up, would you?”

“Absolutely not!” said the archaeologist. "I would never do that to you, Elsie. Sam, maybe, that's the sort of thing she'd do...but me, no, never."

“Well that's good, then,” replied Elsie with relief. “But…just out of curiosity…is she cute?”

The brunette’s breath caught in her throat for a moment.

“Er…well…I suppose… _you_ might think so,” answered the brunette evasively.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“No reason,” returned Lara.

“Uh-huh…”

“You’ll like her, I think,” said the archaeologist. “She’s….quiet.”

“So you’re sending me a mute Tibetan amnesiac who somehow speaks fluent English,” concluded the blonde. “This should be interesting.”

“She’s not mute!” exclaimed Lara. “And I already told you she’s not Tibetan, nor an amnes—”

“I’m yanking your chain!” laughed Elsie.

“Oh you…you little…”

“Nincompoop, right?”

“Yes!”

“And yet you love me anyway,” added the blonde, grinning.

A sigh. “I do,” breathed Lara. 

“I love you too, girl,” echoed Elsie. “Hey, we’re still on for Christmas though, right?”

“Absolutely!” replied the brunette. “I’m really looking forward to it, Elsie…that in itself will be a nice change...”

“Okay, then…let’s do this.”


	2. Arrival of the Doppelgänger

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 2

.

Elsie was washing a handful of carrots when the doorbell rang.

The blonde jumped; she'd been prepared for her guest's impending arrival but was nonetheless filled with a nervous anticipation - Lara had been frustratingly cryptic with details.

She hurriedly dried her hands and scurried to the landing. She took an anxious breath.

_Okay, moment of truth…_

She peered through the peephole.

Elsie's heart leapt.

"Oh. My. _GOD!_ "

She flung the door open and threw herself at the young woman standing on her doorstep.

"LARA!" squealed Elsie ecstatically, wrapping her friend in an enthusiastic hug as she pressed her face into the archaeologist's cheek. "You trickster, you! You totally put one over one me, girl!"

She felt Lara stiffen under her embrace. There was no reciprocal gesture from the Englishwoman.

Something was off.

"Hey," said Elsie, drawing back. "What's wrong? Are you - holy shit, Lara, what happened to you?"

Her friend was white as a ghost. Even more pale than Elsie herself.

The Englishwoman's eyes weren't the lovely amber-brown Elsie remembered, but rather an oddly vivid golden-yellow hue which almost seemed to glow from within. Lara's hair had likewise altered, being now a blood red and tied back in a long plaited braid that snaked down to her waist.

But what struck the blonde most were the faint blue veins that spiderwebbed along the archaeologist's bare arms and shoulders and up the sides of her neck and cheeks.

There was no warmth in the young woman's unblinking stare; no glimmer of recognition.

It wasn't Lara.

"Jeezus!" exclaimed Elsie, instantly releasing her hold on the strange woman. She backed away quickly, tripping over the doorsill to fall awkwardly on her backside. But there was no time for embarrassment.

Pushing herself up on her elbows within the landing, she stared wide-eyed at the Lara lookalike.

"Who the Hell are you?"

The redhead's lips slowly formed into a slight smile.

"The question isn't so much 'who'," she finally spoke, "But rather 'what'."

The voice, at least, was Lara's. Or rather what sounded like two identical recordings of her friend's voice played back milliseconds apart, giving the young woman's speech a vaguely tenebrous quality.

But it was the words she'd spoken more than the voice which set alarm bells ringing in the blonde's head.

It wasn't human.

Elsie panicked. She scampered back on her elbows and kicked the door shut before jumping to her feet and twisting the deadbolt.

She pressed her forehead against the door's frame while struggling to bring her racing heart under control. Why on Earth had Lara sent over this…this _thing?_

This had never been never part of the deal - Lara had spoken of a person, a lost soul perhaps, but not some… _creature_. And why on the moons of Kobol did it look so much like the archaeologist?

Elsie needed answers, desperately.

She ran down the short hall the kitchen. Grasping her phone off the counter, her shaking hands caused her to almost drop the device.

She took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady her quivering fingers. She was about to quick dial the archaeologist when the brunette's words echoed in her mind:

_She has no one, Elsie…no friends or family…nowhere to call home…_

Elsie's stomach churned slightly as she bit her bottom lip. That part of Lara's description, at least, was undoubtedly true.

And she'd just locked it out of her home. It was once again alone.

The blonde's shoulders sagged. Lara would never have asked for her help if it wasn't important to her. Nor, she mused, would she have put the blonde in any kind of danger.

At least knowingly, thought Elsie with a shudder, memories of her previous excursion with Lara dancing in her head - trouble always seemed to linger near the brunette.

But Elsie couldn't just wash her hands of the situation. Lara was counting on her.

_Well...there's only one thing for it, then..._

Elsie placed her phone back on the counter and slowly made her way back to the landing, swallowing nervously.

She gingerly opened the door to find the creature standing exactly where she'd left it.

"S-sorry," stammered the blonde. "That was rude."

The redhead's expression was unchanged, its unnervingly intense stare seeming to bore into Elsie.

"Um…would you…like to come in?"

Silence.

"Look, I'm really sorry," pleaded the blonde, clasping her hands together. "It's nothing personal, it's just…you're not what I was expecting…not by a long shot…but that doesn't excuse me being an absolute jackass."

She shifted sideways and held the door open, beckoning for her guest to enter.

"Please?"

The creature waited a moment as though considering Elsie's invitation. When it finally moved it did so with a surprising elegance, giving her host a sideways glance as it slowly sauntered by the blonde.

Elsie closed and latched the door behind her. Pressing her palm against the wood she took a few moments to settle herself.

"Okay...It's okay...calm down…."

The creature peered at her curiously.

Elsie took a deep breath and spun on her heel. "Care to explain what you meant by that little comment out there?"

She was once more met by that discomforting smile.

"I am not what you would consider 'human'," explained the creature with astonishing calmness - especially given the statement's implications.

Elsie shifted nervously.

"Yeah, I got that much," asked the blonde slowly. "And why do you look so much like Lara? Are you…some sort of clone?"

The creature shook its head. "I am not, as that would imply creation purely through genetic manipulation. A more accurate term to describe me would be 'doppelgänger'."

Elsie's pule rate surged. She was familiar with the old fairy tales, but this was no tale of fiction: she was standing in her landing and conversing with an honest-to-goodness, non-human entity.

"As for why I was made in the image of Lara Croft," continued the creature, "She was the template used in my creation, duplicating and augmenting her own skills and abilities."

"But... _why?_ "

"To destroy her, of course," replied the creature.

Elsie took a step back, bumping into the landing's tiny side table.

"What?" she whispered, an icy chill shooting down her back.

"You needn't worry," assured the creature. "The power that created me no longer holds sway. In a way, I am indebted to your friend."

Elsie fidgeted, silently cursing her landing for being so snug. "Well that's…that's good then…"

_'The power that created me'…what the Hell…?_

"Indeed," agreed the creature. "For otherwise my ultimate fate would have been to perish by my own hand."

Elsie clasped her hands to her throbbing head as she edged past the creature. "Okay, just...give me a minute to process all this..."

She made her way to her kitchen and poured herself a cup of milk, a challenge given her trembling hands.

She turned to find the creature standing mere inches from her: it had followed her as silently as a shadow.

Elsie drew in a sharp breath. Her cup shattered as it struck the floor, its former contents splattering against the cabinets.

"You're in no danger," assured the creature. "I've no desire to kill anyone."

"That's…a relief," squeaked the blonde as she slowly backed away.

_Does this thing ever fucking blink?_

Elsie needed more information - her imagination was running wild, and not in a good way.

"So...let me get this straight," she began as she pressed the small of her back against the countertop, "You...were never born?"

"Correct."

"Then….then how did…"

"That I cannot answer," returned the creature, "For I did not witness the process by which I came into existence. Suffice to say I was created through arcane power by the enemies of Lara Croft."

"Arcane power..." repeated Elsie discomfortingly.

Open-minded as she considered herself to be, Elsie might once have considered such a statement absolute fantasy. But she'd experienced enough with Lara to realize there were some things in the world that would forever defy her attempts at rationalization.

She refocused on the doppelgänger. "So, um…now you're here..."

She was met with a look that would've done Maggie Smith proud. "Clearly."

"So the question is...now what?" asked Elsie, unconsciously gripping the countertop behind her. "What are you looking for, exactly?"

The creature's unnervingly serene demeanour faltered briefly.

"I...don't know," it admitted after a moment's hesitation. "It was never intended that I outlive my target, let alone to continue to exist in this way."

"Well….everyone deserves to exist," countered Elsie, experiencing a pang of sympathy for the redhead's plight. "Well…almost everyone…"

The creature gazed at her curiously.

"I didn't mean you," the blonde quickly amended.

She looked at the creature with slightly less apprehension: its questioning of its own existence had moved her - it was a question she knew many troubled souls had posed themselves. She now realized the fundamental truth of Lara's words - inhuman or not, it truly _was_ alone.

She paused to consider her next words carefully.

"Okay, look," said Elise as she pushed off the countertop, "Everybody has a place in the world, even if it might not seem obvious to you right now. Some people take longer to find it than others, that's all."

"These others of which you speak," returned the creature, "Were all born, raised and nurtured, yes?"

"Well...sure..."

"I never was."

Elsie ran her hand back through her flaxen locks. "Okay, fair point," she admitted, the doppelgänger's statement striking unexpectedly hard. "Look, this is all going to be new for you…well, for both of us, really…and I'm not pretending it's going to be easy…but we'll figure something out, okay? In the meantime you can crash here as long as you like –"

A slight tilt of the creature's head.

"—I mean stay here," corrected the American. "Sorry. It's the vernacular..."

A thought occurred to her.

"You know, if you're gonna live here it'd be nice if I had a name to call you by...'doppelgänger' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue..."

The creature reached into its flak jacket to produce a small assortment of documents. It handed them to Elsie.

Among them Elsie recognized a British passport. She opened the small booklet and glanced up. "'Doppie'?"

"One of Lara Croft's associates created a false identity for me," explained the creature. "That name was her friend Samantha's idea."

Something about the creature's tone caught Elsie's attention. "And...that bothers you?"

The doppelgänger frowned. "She was of the opinion it sounded...'cute'."

Elsie smiled despite everything; the name was strangely endearing, especially considering the unnerving nature of its bearer. Still, it would help to at least partly humanize the creature while it…while she stayed with her.

"Okay," said the blonde as she handed the documents back to their owner. "Doppie it is, then."

It suddenly dawned on her that the redhead had brought no baggage. "Hey, did the airline lose your luggage?"

A slow shake of the head. "I had none."

"Oh...okay, well, we're going to have to get you some regular duds," said Elsie, looking the doppelgänger up and down. "You kinda have a ninja thing going on with that getup…not exactly what I'd call blending in."

Elsie relaxed slightly; it might not be human, but the creature's –

_No, scratch that._

– the young woman's predicament had profoundly evoked the blonde's empathy. She truly was starting out with nothing.

Elsie chewed her bottom lip as she made her decision: she would be the doppelgänger's first friend.

"Elsie Trainor," she said as she held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Doppie stared at the proffered palm for awkwardly long seconds.

"It's, um, customary to shake," whispered the blonde.

The doppelgänger's eyes met Elsie's, seeming to be assessing the blonde. Very slowly, she raised her hand and grasped her host's.

The doppelgänger's skin, surprisingly enough, felt soft and warm and decidedly human-like.

There was a crunch from underfoot as Elsie stepped forward.

"Ah, crap!" she cursed, lifting her now dripping slipper from the broken shards of ceramic that had formerly been her cup. Quickly yanking some paper towels from the counter she crouched down to clean up her panic-induced mess.

"So, um, tell me…what do you like?" she asked while picking out pieces of milk-drenched earthenware from the puddle.

Doppie stared at her. "Like?"

"Food-wise, I mean," clarified the blonde as she blotted up the milk. "Can't imagine they had great fare on the plane, huh?"

The redhead slowly shook her head. "I don't require nourishment."

Elsie drew up and tossed the shards and towels in the trash. She turned back to her guest. "What do you mean…you don't eat?"

"Correct."

"As in… _ever?_ "

"I've never had to," explained the doppelgänger. "It's a human weakness from which I was thankfully absolved."

"Holy shit," breathed Elsie, shaking her head in awe. "You know, there was a time I might've envied you...but eating is…well, it's seriously part of the human experience, Doppie."

"But I'm not –"

Elsie waved her hands. "Can we get away from the whole 'I'm not human' bit, please? That's not exactly helping."

There was no reaction from the doppelgänger. Elsie wasn't sure if the redhead's silence signified acquiescence or the opposite: her innate talent at reading people was significantly curtailed on this particular being.

Elsie sighed. "Look, if you're going to find a place in this world you'll have to learn what it is to be human, 'weaknesses' and all. We'll take it one step at a time, okay? Say, breakfast in the morning?"

Doppie continued to stare at her intently, her expression inscrutable.

"You'll like it," continued the blonde, smiling. "I make pancakes that'll knock your socks off."

The doppelgänger arched an eyebrow.


	3. Baby Steps

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 3

 

Elsie carefully placed the tablet on her nightstand and drew up the covers.

She took a deep breath as she mulled over the day's events. She’d fully anticipated Lara sending over a hard luck case, but at least one she could in some way relate to. But this… 

_Hell it’s not even human…_

She kicked herself mentally. If she was going to help this…being…she had to get her mindset off the creature's supernatural origin. If anything, it only served to heighten her own trepidation -- hardly an ideal situation if she was to help the young woman.

What form that help would take was still a very large question. For now, she'd content herself with making the doppelgänger comfortable in her home; there'd be time enough to tackle the more complicated matters later. 

One of the first of which would have to be better sleeping accommodations; she'd prepared her futon in the living room, but it was far from a practical long-term solution. She'd long ago converted her tiny flat's second bedroom into a study, and was loath to give up her precious sanctuary.

Conversely, moving to a larger flat was out of the question. One, her budget was stretched as it was, and finding a larger place at a similar price point would place it firmly outside the city core, a critical consideration given her relative proximity to the Gallery: she could walk to work in under an hour on those days her car wasn't in the mood.

If she brought the problem to Gellis her friend would doubtlessly argue in favour of bussing. Elsie shuddered at the prospect: if there was one thing she disliked more than crowds it was densely-packed groups of strangers in small, confined spaces. 

No, she'd have to figure something out. 

She reached out and turned off her fly agaric lamp. Curling herself into a ball, she clutched a pillow to her chest.

 _Tomorrow_ , she told herself. 

And drifted off.

 

***

 

Elsie's eyes popped open.

The absence of the distant rumble of street traffic hinted at the wee hours of the morning. 

The room was cloaked in darkness. She lay still in her bed, almost afraid to move. Had her nightlight burned out?

It evoked terrifying memories from her childhood, a feeling of sheer terror she'd fervently hoped to never revisit. Her inner voice was screaming as the hair on the back of her neck bristled. 

Something was off.

Her body stiffened under the blankets as she held her breath.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark, finally coming to focus on a shadow blocking the comforting glow of her nightlight.

There, faintly silhouetted against the wall next to her bed, loomed a figure.

“JEZZUS!” screamed Elsie as she scrambled into a sitting position, her back impacting forcefully against the headboard. The shadow remained absolutely still.

Elise's trembling hand reached out and flicked on the nightstand's lamp.

Against the wall stood the doppelgänger, unmoving and gazing at her in silence.

"What the Hell are you doing??” barked the blonde with equal mix fear and anger. 

The redhead inclined her head slightly.

“I'm curious,” replied Doppie, “I was quite silent – how did you wake?”

Elsie struggled to bring her racing heart under control. “You can’t just wander into someone’s bedroom and stare at them like that, all right? Not cool!”

“You were in no danger.”

"I don't care!" shot the blonde as she glared at her guest. "It’s creepy as fuck!” 

A slight smile tugged on the corners of the doppelgänger's mouth.

“Do I frighten you?”

"Yes, dammit!!"

The redhead’s mouth slowly closed.

Elsie’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, look,” she continued, mindful to keep her voice on an even keel, “I'm sorry for snapping, okay? But people…generally don’t sleep well when they’re being watched. Call it a sixth sense if you want –”

"How did you come by this ability?" asked the doppelgänger with a slight tilt of the head.

“I…never came _by_ it,” replied Elsie. She ran her hand through her disheveled mane before continuing. “Look, can we continue this conversation in the morning, please? It’s barely past midnight!”

“If you like.”

“I do,” replied the blonde emphatically. “Really...just…go get some sleep, okay?”

Golden-yellow eyes blinked. “I don’t require sleep.”

Elsie threw her blanket down into her lap. “Let me guess,” she huffed, “Another of those human ‘weaknesses’?”

“You _are_ very vulnerable while you sleep,” stated Doppie matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, don't remind me," returned the blonde, shuddering. She wondered if the redhead was deriving some sort of twisted pleasure from unnerving her -- if so she was doing a bang-up job of it.

It suddenly dawned on her.

“Hang on,” said Elsie slowly, “You mean…you’ve never slept?”

“I have not.”

“So…you’ve never dreamed, either…”

The redhead looked at her oddly. “As in unconscious hallucinations?"

“Well.....they’re more than just hallucinations,” explained Elsie. “Dreams can provide you with insight, you might even learn some deep truths about yourself. I guess you could say they’re your subconscious’ way of speaking to you, in a way.”

A skeptical raise of an eyebrow.

“My…subconscious," stated the redhead.

“Sure, exactly,” said Elsie. “You know, it’s something I really think you should explore…”

Elsie threw her blankets aside and slid off the bed.

“Come on,” she said as she grabbed Doppie's arm. “Let's get you started.”

She made her way the tiny living room, the doppelgänger in tow. Drawing back the undisturbed blankets on the futon, Elsie stood aside and gestured to the improvised bed.

“Here you go,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable. It's not a proper bed, I know, but it’ll do until I figure out something better.”

The redhead stared at the couch as though it were a spike-lined pit.

“Something wrong?"

“I don’t see the point in this,” replied Doppie in a low voice. “This notion of voluntarily losing consciousness is...unsettling.”

Elsie tried to hide her exasperation, her frustration only mildly tempered by the fact she didn’t have to go to work in the morning.

“Okay, look,” said Elsie in as conciliatory a tone as she could manage, “I don’t want to push you into anything, but sometimes it’s better to just go all in and get it over with, cannonball-style. Who knows, you might even like it!”

The doppelgänger seemed decidedly unimpressed.

An idea flashed in Elsie's mind.

“Unless, of course,” amended the blonde slyly, “Sleeping is simply...beyond your capabilities?”

The woman’s unnatural golden eyes narrowed and seemed to glow in intensity.

_Well she has an ego, at least…_

Doppie glared at her host. Elsie held her ground, staring back without flinching as she tried to conceal her nervousness. She might be Lara's virtual twin, but there was a decidedly intimidating quality to the redhead.

"It is a dangerous game you play," warned the doppelgänger.

"Does that mean you can't, then?" countered the blonde all while hoping she wasn't pushing the redhead too far.

The doppelgänger seemed to be struggling with herself, eventually giving her host an almost imperceptible nod.

"Very well," she said icily. "I'll accede to your pointless request." 

"Thank you!" blurted the blonde with relief.

With that, Doppie sat on the edge of the futon and removed her boots; the redhead's body language was such that Elsie had the impression of someone distinctly unused to sitting.

Moments later the doppelgänger was stretched out on the improvised bed, arms held stiffly against her sides.

“Geez, try and relax a little,” said Elsie as she drew the blanket up to the doppelgänger’s shoulders. "You look like you're ready for a Luge run...”

Doppie stared at the ceiling. “How...will I wake?” 

“Don't worry,” assured the blonde. “It‘ll come naturally."

"But if --"

"Tell you what, if you're still asleep when I check in on you in the morning I'll wake you up, how's that?”

A frustrated sigh from the doppelgänger. “This is insipid...”

Elsie sat on the arm of the couch. “Just trust me on this," she said soothingly. "Frankly I'm amazed you've never slept before, most people would go insane after a week...I can't imagine what keeps you going...”

"I begin to wonder myself," grumbled Doppie.

"It'll get easier," promised the blonde, patting the doppelgänger's hand through the blanket. "I guess this is kind of culture shock for you, huh?"

"You've no idea," retuned the redhead, her voice a bare whisper. 

Elsie leaned closer and frowned. "Hey --"

The redhead squeezed her eyes shut.

Elsie bit her lip.

_Shit…she’s really hating this…_

Little wonder; the notion of sleep must have seemed utterly alien to the doppelgänger. She was lowering her guard completely -- possibly for the first time in her existence.

The blonde reached out, intending to brush back a few stray auburn strands from the doppelgänger's forehead. Elsie swallowed, her hand trembling slightly; with her golden-yellow eyes closed, the redhead's resemblance to Lara was even more striking…

_Just how much of her is in you...?_

But it wasn't the archaeologist, she reminded herself. She would have to keep that little fact firmly in mind in the coming days.

Elsie slowly withdrew her hand.

“I know I'm asking a lot,” she said softly. "But you won't have to go it alone."

With that, Elsie went and retrieved her pillows and blanket from her bed. Settling herself on the floor with her back against the futon, she positioned the pillows behind her to allow at least a modicum of comfort.

She leaned back against the improvised bed and drew her blanket up to her chin. It would not be a comfortable repose.

“I‘ll be right here,” she whispered. "You'll get through this..."

And settled into a fitful sleep.


	4. Let Sleeping Doppelgängers Lie

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 4

Elsie slowly pried her eyes open.

_Morning...finally._

The night's sleep had been restless: her awkward position combined with the hard floor and the doppelgänger's constant shifting had allowed for precious little slumber. She was now doubly grateful she had the day off.

She remained propped up against the futon, allowing herself a few moments to adjust to burgeoning consciousness. _She seems to be sleeping all right now, at least_ , she mused with relief, failing to detect any hint of motion behind her. _I guess better late than never..._

She pushed off from the couch and turned to see the redhead sprawled haphazardly across the improvised bed, one black-clad leg dangling limply over the side. The pillow was on the floor, the blanket strewn about so chaotically that almost none of the doppelgänger's form remained covered.

Elsie sighed. Her own slumber might have been spotty, but it had evidently been an even rougher night for her guest.

She mulled getting up without waking the young woman but decided against it. She'd assured the doppelgänger she'd wake her, after all – and one of her first orders of business was to build trust.

She got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment. The cobwebs cleared, she leaned over the doppelgänger and gently shook the redhead's shoulder.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she voiced softly, "Rise and sh-"

Golden-yellow eyes popped open.

Elsie gagged as the doppelgänger's hand instantly clamped around her throat, squeezing her windpipe with terrifying force. The blonde clawed desperately at the vice-like fingers, her throat so constricted she couldn't muster even a squeak. Her eyes bulged.

This was it - she was going to be decapitated through constriction.

Then, just as suddenly as it had grasped her, the doppelgänger's grip abruptly released.

Elsie stumbled back, clutching her throat. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

The redhead leapt from the couch. "I'm sor -"

And crumpled awkwardly to the floor.

Despite the soreness in her neck Elsie had to stifle an urge to burst out laughing.

"You're fine!" she assured the redhead, her anger dissipating at the sight of the woman's confusion. "You're groggy, is all."

The doppelgänger was frantically struggling to stand and stumbling badly, clearly unnerved by her strangely uncooperative legs. Elsie grabbed her arm and helped the redhead to her feet.

"Easy...you're okay...it can take a few seconds for your motor functions to kick in properly after you wake up...I guess I could've mentioned that..."

Doppie swayed slightly but stayed upright, frowning as she rubbed her thighs. "Yes…yes you could have."

"You'll get used to it," assured the blonde. "It _was_ your first time, after all."

The redhead flashed a glare. "I will NOT be attempting that again."

"Sure you will."

"You truly believe this little experiment of yours was worthwhile?" asked the doppelgänger angrily. "You would be a fool to think so."

"Just humour me, okay?" returned the blonde, ignoring the verbal jab.

Doppie shook her head. "Perhaps you'd prefer to chance a broken wrist next time?"

"Yeah, well, about that," muttered Elsie softly while massaging her throat, "Try not attacking the first thing you see when you wake up, okay? I can think of better ways to start a morning."

"I don't react well to unexpected physical contact," countered the redhead.

"Fine, I'll poke you with a stick next time!" snapped the blonde. She rubbed her forehead and continued. "Sorry...I suppose we're both learning, aren't we?"

The redhead's expression turned to disbelief. "Why must you insist on -"

But Elsie was already flouncing off toward the kitchen. "You go wash up, 'kay?" she called back over her shoulder, torpedoing the argument before it could gather further steam. "I'll start getting breakfast ready."

She rummaged through her pantry gathering the required ingredients when she realized she was still alone in the kitchen. She leaned out into the short hall to peer back at her guest - the doppelgänger still hadn't moved from the couch.

"Lemme guess, never washed before?" asked the blonde. She crooked her head slightly. "How is it you don't reek?"

"I have, in fact," replied the redhead dryly.

"Oh?"

The doppelgänger shifted slightly. "I've found bathing in rivers to be rather…pleasurable."

A lightbulb went off in the blonde's head. She returned to the couch and grabbed the redhead's arm.

"C'mon," said Elsie with an encouraging smile. "I've got a treat for you..."

Elsie led her guest down the short hall and into the bathroom. Flipped the light switch, she gestured to the large clawfoot bathtub dominating the small room. "There you go...not a river obviously, but I think you'll like it. Perfect way to start a Sunday morning."

She twisted the taps until she'd found an agreeably warm combination before turning back to the redhead.

"I'll pick out some clothes for you for when we go out this afternoon," she declared. She looked the doppelgänger up and down. "Yeah, you would have Lara's curves, wouldn't you...still, I think they should fit..."

The doppelgänger tilted her head. "Out?"

"Well, we have to get you your own wardrobe," replied Elsie as she remmaged through the medicine cabinet. "Not that I mind sharing, mind you. But you've got a couple of inches on me, and most of my stuff might be a bit snug around…your...um...ah, here it is..."

She grasped the bottle of bubble bath and poured a healthy dob into the tub.

"Yeah, that'll work," remarked the blonde as mounds of pearlescent foam began rising from the water's surface. Doppie moved closer, eyeing the sparkling bubbles curiously.

Elsie smiled as she placed a towel on the tub's edge. "Bubble bath. Don't worry, it's totally harmless."

The doppelgänger slid a finger through a soapy mound and examined the glittering substance coating her fingertip. "What purpose does it serve?"

"Nothing really, it just feels nice," explained the blonde as she exited the bathroom. "Not everything needs to have a purpose, you know...anyway...enjoy!"

With that Elsie closed the door behind her and made her way to the kitchen. Pouring herself an orange juice, she settled into her tiny breakfast nook, observing the early morning sunlight flooding through the kitchen window. The dust particles danced their midair waltzes, their lazy movements reminding Elsie of the faerie balls she'd once imagined as a child.

 _Faeries are one thing_ , she thought as she sipped her juice. _I've got a freaking doppelgänger. What's next, Lara? Magic beans?_

At least she had one more night to try and catch up on her sleep before going back to work, she mused with relief. Mondays were quite bad enough on their own without her starting the week off cranky.

She rubbed her fists into her eyes and yawned. Grabbing her phone, she thumbed the display.

A single message. From Lara, of all people, sent about two hours previous - roughly midday in London.

Elsie lightly rapped her fingers on the tabletop. _So, behold the quintessential devil in these matters..._

She opened the message app.

_~I hope you're not upset with me~_

Elsie sighed. Fact it, she _was_ upset. And with reason.

No wonder the brunette had been so elusive. But that was no excuse.

Part of the hurt stemmed from the fact that Lara hadn't confided the full truth to her. Elsie would have taken in a diseased hyena if it mattered to the archaeologist - surely Lara knew that? Which is why the brunette's decision to hide some of the more important details of her guest mystified her.

But at the same time, she sensed an opportunity.

Swallowing her lower lip, she typed in a reply:

_~I'm pissed, Lara.~_

Elsie took a sip of her juice as the faint sound of running water from the bathroom ceased. She smiled to herself as she pictured Doppie gingerly testing the bubbles.

She flipped to her news feed.

HABS ROUT BRUINS 6-1.

Elsie groaned. _Great...I won't be hearing the end of this..._

She was perusing some of the slightly less upsetting news articles when a text message came back from the archaeologist.

_~Forgive me?~_

Elsie raised an eyebrow. _Game on, Lara._

She began an exchange of messages with the brunette.

_~You could have mentioned you were sending over an assassin clone of yourself. Thanks for the heads-up. Really.~_

It took a few minutes for the reply to arrive. Elsie was gleefully picturing the Englishwoman agonizing over every word.

_~I was afraid it might 'weird you out'. ~_

Elsie smiled. Okay, time to lay on the guilt.

_~And that I might say no? I thought you knew me better than that.~_

An unexpectedly quick return.

_~You're the only one I trust with this, Elsie.~_

The blonde pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The archaeologist had avoided the trap. _Good comeback, girl._

But she wouldn't let the brunette off the hook.

_~Yeah, some trust.~_

Then came the reply she'd been hoping for:

_~I'll make it up to you. I promise.~_

Elsie eagerly leaned her elbows on the table as she typed, her feet reflexively pressing against the chair's legs in excitement. _Now we're getting somewhere..._

_~Well maybe if you were to read Fifty Shades of Grey to me at Xmas...~_

Which elicited an instant reaction:

_~Oh God.~_

Elsie couldn't stifle a devilish grin as she typed in her response:

_~Wazza matter?~_

The brunette's reply:

_~Please, anything but that.~_

The blonde stuck her tongue out in glee.

_~Why? You a prude or something?~_

Elsie tried to imagine Lara's increasing panic - she was thoroughly enjoying milking her friend's discomfiture.

The brunette's plaintive retort:

_~You of all people should have an appreciation for good literature, how can you read that rubbish?~_

In truth Elsie had never so much as contemplated reading the book. But she couldn't reveal that to the brunette - at least not yet.

_~I like to keep an open mind. So we gonna do this or what?~_

A new reply tinged with desperation.

_~Elsie, I'm begging you. PLEASE.~_

The blonde almost snorted her orange juice out of her nose. Okay, time to let her off the hook.

_~I'll think about it.~_

Elsie smiled in satisfaction. _Don't wanna let her off TOO easy, now..._

A final reply from the brunette.

_~Miss you.~_

Despite everything, the two words couldn't help but set the blonde's heart aflutter. She'd thought to leave Lara hanging on her previous message but couldn't bring herself not to respond:

_~Miss you too, girl. Just get that magnificent ass of yours over here.~_

Elsie slouched back in her chair and smiled to herself. _This is going to be the best Christmas ever..._

She shuffled off to the living room and made up the futon, returning her blanket and pillows to her bedroom. Once back in the kitchen she put the copper-bottomed crepe pan on the stove and prepared the pancake batter as she waited for her guest to emerge from the bathroom.

Almost thirty minutes later she was still surfing the Web when she decided to check in on the redhead. _What's keeping her...?_

She rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "Hey, you drowning in there?"

A barely audible reply. "Hardly."

"Coming out anytime soon?"

Silence.

She knocked again. "Doppie?"

"I'd like a bit longer," came the redhead's reply.

Elsie grinned. _Oh, she is so enjoying this..._

"No worries," answered the blonde. "Take as long as you like."

 _Just so long as it's not TOO long_ , she mused as she made her way back to the kitchen. She silently kicked herself for not having used the bathroom before the doppelgänger.

The redhead entered the kitchen a fortuitously short time later. Elsie glanced up from her tablet and did a double-take: the doppelgänger's hair was damp and loose, having been cast free from its restraining braid. Elsie couldn't help but stare, mouth agape: the doppelgänger was every bit as beautiful as her template.

It was in that same instant that the blonde's frontal lobe finally registered the redhead's stark nakedness.

"Whoa!" blurted Elsie, quickly averting her eyes. "Geez, there's a bathrobe in there for a reason, you know!"

"You said you wanted me to wear different clothing," countered the doppelgänger with disconcerting calmness.

"Yeah, sure, later!" said Elsie, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the slowly dripping faucet, her pulse surging. "Can you go put the bathrobe on, please?"

"I don't understand," chimed Doppie, "You've seen Lara unclothed."

"T-that's...different," stammered the blonde. "We...hey, wait...just HOW do you know that?"

It was taking all her willpower not to look at the redhead.

Silence.

"Answer me!" demanded Elsie hotly. "What did she tell you?"

Still no response.

Elsie chanced a glance.

The doppelgänger was gone.

She huffed in confusion - the redhead seemed to move as a ghost. _What the Hell?_

Elsie had jumped to her feet just as the doppelgänger reappeared at the kitchen entrance, now clad in the blonde's Winnie-the-Pooh bathrobe.

"I am aware of your relationship," continued the redhead as though she'd never left the conversation.

"What…what did she say?"

"That you are one of the few people she trusts implicitly."

"She said that?"

A slow nod.

A comforting warmth enveloped the blonde. Still, she found it a tad unnerving that the archaeologist had spoken about her to the doppelgänger - how much detail had she gone into?

"So, um...what else did she say about me?"

"Only that you stood the best chance of helping me find purpose," replied the doppelgänger. "She described you as a 'singularly insightful sort'."

"Oh," exhaled Elsie in relief. "Well...right, then..."

The blonde relaxed slightly. The secrets she'd once determined to carry to her grave were still known by a single soul.

"Okay, then…I'll go wash up real quick and then I'll get breakfast ready, what do you say?"

The doppelgänger seemed decidedly unenthusiastic at the prospect. "Yes, please hurry."

A short time later found the two young women seated in the kitchen's tiny breakfast nook, Elsie flopping a stack of freshly made pancakes onto her guest's plate.

"Is this truly necessary?" asked the doppelgänger with undisguised reluctance.

Elsie nodded to the kitchen window. "What are you going to do out there if no one sees you eat? Like, ever? It's not a comfortable situation to be in once people start asking questions, believe me..."

The redhead was looking at her strangely.

_Shit...careful, Elsie..._

It was time to redirect the conversation.

"Anyway, you'll love 'em," assured the blonde as she dropped the remaining flapjacks onto her own plate. "Sunday morning pancakes are the best...and even better when shared."

Doppie remained expressionless as she slowly turned her gaze to the circular confections, half-heartedly prodding the small stack with her fork.

"Come on," urged Elsie encouragingly. "Try a bite, they won't kill you. Well...at least I don't _think_ they will..."

The doppelgänger's head shot up.

"Kidding!" blurted Elsie, laughing. "I'm just kidding! Seriously, you'll be fine!"

Doppie gave her a dark look before turning back to her pancakes. Sighing in resignation, the redhead finally speared a piece with her fork and nibbled the sample.

"So?" asked Elsie, leaning forward with hands clasped together in anticipation. "What do you think?"

The redhead was still kneading the tiny morsel in her mouth.

"I'm not certain," said the doppelgänger after finally swallowing. "As I've no frame of reference with which to compare. I feel no different from before."

"It gets better," returned Elsie as she grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and drowned Doppie's stack in a healthy dose of the golden liquid. "Now try again."

The doppelgänger placed her fork on the table.

"Hey, don't stop now!" pleaded Elsie. "Come on, you'll like it, I promise."

"There's no point in this," argued the doppelgänger. "This human requirement for nourishment is a weakness I can easily do without."

"Just try it, okay?" pleaded the blonde. "Come on, don't give up before you even start!"

Doppie was looking at her with obvious irritation.

"Tell you what, if you don't like it with the syrup I won't ask you to eat anything else today." countered the blonde. "Deal?"

The doppelgänger let out a breath of frustration but duly retrieved her fork and cut out a new sample.

She chewed once, twice...and stopped.

Elsie held her breath. _Uh-oh…_

The redhead glanced at her but said nothing, her features utterly devoid of expression. Elsie couldn't tell if she found the sweetened confection unpalatable, or -

The doppelgänger slowly resumed chewing before proceeding to cut out another piece.

Elsie grinned.

_Yes!_

"Sweet tooth, huh?" stated the blonde as she poured herself a helping of syrup. "Bear in mind this isn't the sort of thing you'd want to eat every day..."

Elsie grasped her fork and partook in the morning meal. She watched as the doppelgänger slowly worked through her stack, each bite seeming to come easier and with less hesitation.

She decided to test the redhead's sudden affinity. "You don't have to eat them all if you don't want to."

Doppie paused a moment before popping another pancake piece in her mouth.

Elsie did a mental _Ka-Ching!_

They continued to eat in silence, Elsie swallowing her questions alongside her pancakes - there would be time enough to pose them later. Doppie, for her part, seemed perfectly comfortable avoiding conversation. Elsie didn't feel at all awkward despite the prolonged lack of verbal communication – she suspected it was because the doppelgänger had no social norms to judge against.

It was oddly refreshing.

They'd nearly finished breakfast when a chime rang out from the counter.

Elsie grasped her phone. "Be right back."

She made her way to her study, phone in hand - not that she was concerned that Doppie would overhear, really. But no one knew about her guest, and given the doppelgänger's supernatural origin she was determined to keep it that way. At least for the short term.

"Hey Gel!" said Elsie brightly, dropping herself in her study's corner chair. "Wassup?"

"Bad news," replied Gellis. "Zack's gone by end of next week; they're not extending his term."

_Oh, crap._

Elsie's shoulders sagged. It didn't exactly surprise her: she'd seen it coming. Still, she felt bad for the guy - he was a bit of a klutz, true, but was otherwise an eminently likeable sort.

"Well that sucks," said the blonde dispiritedly, "Not that I'm exactly shocked, though...that was one expensive snafu..."

"Um, yeah, about that," said Gellis. "Turns out Nathan knew about the _Pride and Prejudice_ incident, too."

"What? How?"

"No idea," replied her raven-haired friend. "I was sure we'd slipped that one under the rug..."

Elsie sighed and slouched deeper into the armchair. "The man knows his books..."

"I know, right? And now we're down another intern..."

The blonde rubbed her forehead. "Don't remind me."

"Anyway, we'll be taking Zack out for dinner at O'Toole's on Friday, you in? I gotta make reservations."

"For sure!" said Elsie. "They have the...best...uh..."

A sense of foreboding came over the blonde.

"What?" asked Gellis.

"Just out of curiosity...who's coming?"

"Just you, me, Rollie, and Jeff...oh, and Zack, natch. You know, the young guns."

 _Ugh._ Just what Elsie had fervently hoped not to hear. She shuddered at the prospect of sitting at the same table with Jeff Klipman.

The man was disgustingly lewd: the leering and unwelcome advances had been grating on her since he'd been hired to replace the gallery's outgoing photographer. What made matters worse was his sly discretion - he was always the consummate professional with witnesses about.

But Elsie knew better. She could always feel the mental undressing, the predatory scheming, the racing libido. It was almost as if he took a perverse pride in putting her on edge. And now he was going to get his jollies once again.

_Bastard._

"El? You there?"

"Yeah," said the blonde heavily. "Yeah, still here..."

"You okay?"

"It's just...did you really have to invite Jeff?" pleaded the blonde. "This is going to totally suck..."

Gellis sighed. "Oh, Elsie," she returned sympathetically, "I know you're not exactly a fan –"

"Hah!"

"- but it'd look pretty weird not to include him, don't you think? What would we tell Zack?"

"He's a creeper!"

"Look, he won't try anything," consoled the raven-haired woman. "You'll be fine...it'll just be for an hour or so."

Elsie pouted. "This totally blows, Gel."

"I know," said Gellis. "And I'm sorry for that, really. For what it's worth, I do believe everything you've told me, I really do...and after this you can wash your hands of him."

The blonde groaned. "Fine," she finally acquiesced, her feet shuffling back and forth in agitation. "If only for Zack's sake. But I swear if he so much as tries anyth-"

She was interrupted by a heavy thud from the kitchen, which was immediately followed by a series of loud hacking coughs.

_Shit!_

"What was that?" asked Gellis.

"I gotta go!" blurted Elsie as she jumped to her feet. "I - I got something on the stove -"

"Okay, go!"

Elsie scampered into the hallway and froze in horror.

Smoke was billowing out of her kitchen.


	5. A Major Malfunction

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 5

Elsie sprinted down the short hall into the smoke-filled kitchen, fully expecting to be witness to a raging inferno. But there were no flames to be seen.

Through the pale smoke she could see the form of the doppelgänger bent over the sink, her hands rapidly scooping water from the faucet into her mouth.

It suddenly occurred to Elsie that the fire alarm hadn't gone off. Whatever the strange mist filling her kitchen was, it wasn't smoke.

"Uh...mind telling me what happened?"

"I don't understand," gasped Doppie, still leaning over the sink. "Flour is one of humanity's staple foods...how could it be so difficult to ingest?"

Elsie gaped at the doppelgänger's back. "Huh?"

Then she saw it: lying splayed open on the kitchen floor was one of her bags of organic wheat flour. Most of its contents had spilled out, permeating the small room with fine white dust.

Elsie burst out laughing.

"You tried to eat flour...straight from the bag?"

The doppelgänger spun around.

The next few moments were a blur. The back of Elsie's head smashed painfully into the wall, the blonde finding herself pinned by the Doppelgänger's forearm pressing hard under her chin.

Elsie had to stand on her tiptoes to avoid being choked. The redhead's eyes glowed ominously, her face inches from the blonde's.

"Perhaps you'd like to chance that broken wrist after all?" hissed the doppelgänger while squeezing the blonde's arm with her free hand. "Would find that equally amusing, I wonder?"

Elsie tried desperately to extricate herself, to no avail. The doppelgänger was pressed tightly against her, which combined with the arm bulldozing her throat was preventing the blonde from generating any kind of effective struggle.

"You need...to chill," gasped Elsie.

Golden-yellow eyes blazed in renewed energy.

"Wrong answer," purred the doppelgänger.

Elsie's wrist throbbed sharply as the redhead squeezed even harder - the pain was quickly transitioning into agony. She clenched her teeth as she tried to jerk her arm free, her comparatively feeble struggles only serving to provoke additional tightening on the part of her attacker.

 _Jeezus_ , thought the blonde. Lara was astonishingly strong for her size - but not _this_ strong. It felt like an enraged bald eagle clamping down on her unprotected arm.

The pain was becoming dizzying. "Get off me," she wheezed, the words barely escaping from her compressed throat.

A devilish smile fell across the doppelgänger's features. "Why, are we not amused?"

Elsie's eyes bulged as her wrist was being slowly twisted back at a dangerously unnatural angle.

"S-stop," she croaked.

The doppelgänger pressed closer, her lips brushing Elsie's eyelashes. "Oh, but we're having so much fun..."

Impossibly, the redhead's grip on her arm tightened further. Tears welled up in Elsie's eyes.

"Nearly there," breathed the doppelgänger as she twisted the blonde's wrist back another's half-centimeter.

A bolt of pain shot up Elsie's arm. She shrieked.

"DOPPIE!"

The doppelgänger jerked back slightly. And blinked.

The arm pinning the blonde against the wall slackened. The pressure against her throat was no longer stifling. Elsie struggled desperately, finally managing to extricate herself as the redhead released the vice-like grip on her arm.

She scrambled to her bedroom, tears flowing. Slamming the door shut behind her, she grabbed the chair from her dressing table and jammed it beneath the knob, her wrist throbbing painfully.

She struck the door's weathered surface with her uninjured hand. "WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO?"

She staggered back from the door and flopped down heavily upon the bed.

"Dammit, Lara," she choked, burying her face in her hands.

The creature in her kitchen was not the archaeologist. Not in the slightest. It had been a fool's hope.

It was some unstable creation from God-knows where – an experiment gone awry.

And thanks to her benevolence she now found herself trapped in her own home.

She silently cursed herself for choosing her bedroom as a refuge; her phone was in her study, her tablet in the kitchen. She was cut off from help.

Unless she crawled out the window and ran to the neighbours. And then what? The police?

Not even a day in and she'd failed Lara already.

_No...dammit, no...I have to salvage this somehow..._

Rubbing her aching wrist, she fervently hoped there'd been no major damage. Her upcoming job in New York was less than a month away, hardly enough time to adequately heal. This was all she needed: a damaged wrist just before her first job with actual dialogue.

It had been her dream. And now it teetered precariously in the balance.

_Okay...okay…worry about that tomorrow...right now you have a more pressing problem..._

Her breathing had finally slowed to a manageable level. Slowly pushing off from the bed, she pressed her ear to the door.

All was quiet. But as she knew how silently the doppelgänger could move, the silence provided little comfort.

But if she wasn't going to go to the police there was only one other option available to her, terrifying as it was.

She would try and reason with it. Try to understand its behaviour. Set boundaries.

And hope to Brigid she wouldn't subject herself to another attack.

At least it hadn't pursued her, she consoled herself. Given its physical power it could've easily demolished the rickety wooden door to her bedroom.

Elsie took a deep breath. It was time to test the waters.

She grasped the doorknob and twisted.

She peered out into the hallway: there was no blazing-eyed, crazed doppelgänger waiting in the shadows. She slowly emerged from her refuge and shuffled quietly to the kitchen only to find it deserted.

She checked the living room, followed by her study. Still nothing.

_Is she hiding somewhere just waiting to pounce on me? Catoooo..._

But her fear was gradually giving way to concern.

There was one more possibility. Flipping on the light in the bathroom, her eyes were immediately drawn to her bathrobe hanging on the hook. The doppelgänger's ebony garments were nowhere in sight.

She turned back into the hall and took a chance.

"Doppie?"

No response.

Then she noticed them - faint flour boot prints leading out the front door.

Elsie almost choked. _No!_

She ran to the landing and swung the door open in a panic, the knob denting the inner wall.

The neighborhood around her flat was quiet, the sun-drenched streets and sidewalks deserted. The only sign of life was a red squirrel chirping at her from the eavestrough.

The doppelgänger was gone.

~oOo~

Elsie sat in horror as she tried to digest the disaster.

"Twelve...hundred...dollars?"

The mechanic looked apologetic. "I'm afraid so. Sorry about that."

"But...can't you fix it?"

Bill chuckled. "I can send it out to have it rebuilt," he said, "But rebuilding a tranny's going to end up costing a lot more than buying one. That's more something you'd see restorers do."

Elsie could feel a headache coming on - the first physical manifestation of her mushrooming stress. "But twelve hundred...can't you get one on the cheap somewhere?"

"Already tried," countered the mechanic, wiping his hands with an oil-stained rag. "There's only one available in all of New England, so they're not too negotiable on price."

Elsie felt like she was going to be sick. "But...but...I thought my car used Beetle components...?"

Bill shrugged. "Some, but the tranny was a heavy duty unit specific to your car," he explained. "Can't just swap in a Bug's transmission, it doesn't have a reduction box. And I don't need to tell you how much rarer VW Things are."

Elsie sat in the shop's dingy waiting room, her head spinning from the news. She was used to money being tight - but this repair would clean her out. A year's worth of savings gone.

The mechanic crouched down on his haunches and addressed her eye to eye. "Look, if it's any consolation, I'm giving it to you at cost," he said in a low voice so as not to be overheard. "I'm not making a dime off you. My sister would never forgive me, for one."

Elsie forced herself to smile at that. "Sorry. I'm not upset at you, really, it's just...not great timing."

"These things never are," agreed Bill, nodding. "Let me ask you, have you ever thought of getting it restored?"

"On my income? Not a chance..."

"Fully restored VW Things go for twenty, maybe even thirty grand on the open market. Just food for thought."

Elsie sighed. "Yeah…okay…thanks..."

The man smiled. "So, want me to go ahead and order it?"

Elsie couldn't bring herself to vocalize acquiescence. With a grimace she barely managed a painful nod.

To top it all off, she could feel a cold coming on.

~oOo~

The car screeched to a halt mere inches from her left leg, abruptly jarring Elsie from her reverie.

She squeaked and scrambled hastily to the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry!" she called out to the man in the green Subaru waving his fist out the window. "I'm so sorry!"

"Watch where you're going, you dumb kid!"

"Sorry!" repeated Elsie before sprinting red-faced down the sidewalk, trying her best to ignore the stares from her fellow pedestrians.

Her heart was racing. _You idiot! Focus!_

She just had a few more blocks to go to reach the gallery, but if she kept zoning out she'd be lucky to make it alive.

It had been a week since Doppie's disappearance. But rather than fading from her memory, every passing day found the blonde thinking more about her departed guest.

Where had she gone? What was she doing? And more importantly, what was the doppelgänger's state of mind?

The previous evening she'd forced herself not to answer Lara's call, which in itself had been an intensely agonizing decision. She knew the Englishwoman would want an update, but she couldn't bring herself tell the brunette she'd let her down. That she had sheltered her duplicate for all of a dozen hours before losing her.

Conversely she knew time was not on her side. Every hour that went by without returning Lara's call would undoubtedly further reinforce to the archaeologist that something was amiss.

She derived no consolation that the redhead was not likely in any physical danger: without need of sleep nor food, the creature was undoubtedly a master of survival. But surviving was a poor substitute for living.

But the doppelgänger was unpredictable. Violent, dangerous even. She was safer without it in her life.

And it was out there, somewhere.

Alone.

And she wanted to help it now more than ever.

~oOo~

"I saw you coming down the street," said Gellis, nodding at the window. "I guess you had to leave your car?"

"Leave it and a half," returned the blonde tiredly as she hung up her coat. "Transmission's gone."

Gellis' eyes widened. "Ouch!"

"Yeah..."

"So...what are you going to do?"

Elsie sat down at her desk and kicked off her boots. "Get it replaced, I can't afford a new car. Or a used one for that matter, unless it's a complete clunker. Which is what I have now anyway."

"Damn," swore the raven-haired woman. "Did Bill at least -"

"He went above and beyond the call," assured Elsie with a smile. "Really. And thanks, by the way."

Gellis shook her head. "Forget it, it's the absolute least I could do. But...El..."

Something about her friend's hesitant tone alerted Elsie that the conversation was about to turn serious.

"Am I going to like where this is heading?"

Gellis chewed on her lower lip. "You know I worry about you..."

"Thanks," interjected the blonde quickly. "Oh by the way, Nathan asked if we could contact Bauman's and see if they -"

"Don't change the subject," returned Gellis as she pulled off the blonde's beanie and tidied up the worst of her friend's disheveled locks. "It's just...do you really think you can keep this up?"

Elsie groaned and turned away. "Not this again..."

"Elsie, you're always broke!" exclaimed Gellis. "This transmission thing is just the latest - do you even have enough to cover that?"

"Yes," muttered the blonde, avoiding her co-worker's gaze.

Barely.

But Gellis would have none of it. "Let me guess, it wiped you out, right?"

Elsie's shoulders sagged. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Wake up, girl!" huffed the raven-haired woman, stomping her foot for emphasis, "You're always one step away from destitution, doesn't that worry you?"

"There's plenty of people worse off," mumbled the blonde as she turned on her computer.

"Yeah, well, I'm worried about the one right here," said Gellis. "El, you're living in a detached house on a single income, and not a very big income at that."

"It's a small place," countered Elsie defensively. "The rent is commensurate."

"Your car is a financial sinkhole -"

"Conveniently ignoring I do a lot of the work on her myself."

"As in, replacing transmissions?"

"That's...an exception."

"And you've got nothing in your 401K..."

"Hey!" blurted the blonde. "Been snooping a bit, have we? Should I give you my PIN while we're at it?"

"El, you're stretched too thin!" blurted Gellis, waving her arms agitatedly. "You keep on like this and you'll have no financial future! Move to a condo, or get an apartment -"

"I can't live in those places!" returned Elsie irritably. "I'd go crazy after a month!"

"Well at least get a decent car, something that won't keep breaking -"

"And pile up another debt on top of my student loan?" said Elsie. "No thanks."

Gellis let out an exasperated breath. "El, everyone's in debt! It's the way the world works! Welcome to capitalism!"

"Not this girl," returned the blonde, pulling her lunch from her tote bag. "Besides I get supplementary income every now and then."

"You'll never get rich doing the odd stunt job, you know that."

"I'm not doing it to get rich!" snapped Elsie, her patience quickly eroding. "Gawd 'o mighty, it's the Spanish Inquisition!"

"Okay, okay, fine," said the raven-haired woman, holding up her hands in symbolic surrender. "Fair enough. I know I can be a little intense sometimes -"

"Ya think?"

"- but kiddo, I can see it's eating at you. You've been preoccupied all week. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Elsie sighed. "It's...not..."

"Just let me ask you this: what are you going to do if another big expense comes along next week and clobbers you?"

Elsie rolled her eyes. Grabbing her lunch, she bolted for the kitchenette.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there," she called back from the hallway.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," said Gellis softly.


	6. Twisted Games

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 6

"That reminds me, there's a rubber match in Beantown tomorrow," voiced Rollie as he eyed the ice hockey contest currently being broadcast on the pub's televisions. He turned to Elsie. "Care for another go, E.T.?"

"Ah, no," replied the blonde, idly swirling the ice cubes around in her glass. "I'm not too keen on donning another Habs jersey again, thanks...I won't be living that down anytime soon..."

Rollie grinned. "That's strange, you sounded pretty confident last week."

Elsie shot him a mock glare. "Oh hush, you dozy pollock."

"That was a fluke," offered Gellis.

"Damn right," echoed Zack, nodding in agreement.

The cozy Irish pub was bustling, the rumbling chatter of its patrons drowning out the hockey match on its monitors. It was one of Elsie's favorite eateries, the smoky wooden beams, flickering candles and Celtic decor radiated their usual warmth - and yet she couldn't wait to leave.

Her headache was now threatening to intensify into a migraine, and worse, Jeff Klipman had naturally taken the seat directly across from her. Gellis had noticed her friend's restlessness and patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't understand, do you have some sort of gripe against the local team?" asked Zack as their server returned from the kitchen.

Rollie chuckled. "Well, there is no local team, for one."

For that he earned himself a light smack on the head from Jenny. "What do you call the Pirates, smart aleck?" said the pretty brunette while deftly clearing off dishes.

"Ouch!" blurted Rollie, feigning injury. "Remind me to deduct that from your tip!"

"No candy for you then," said Jenny with a grin.

"Okay, okay!"

"You tell him, Jenn," said Zack grinning. Turning to Rollie, he continued: "Care to explain why you root for the Habs, anyway?"

"Insanity," muttered Elsie.

"Oh yeah?"

Rollie thumbed the home button on his phone and held it up before her - his lock screen was a photo of a grim-faced Elsie wearing an oversized Montreal Canadiens jersey.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you're using that!"

"You could probably sue," suggested Jenny, nudging the blonde affectionately before making off with a load of dishes.

"I had no idea you were into hockey until I saw you in that jersey," remarked Jeff, grinning. "I'm a Bruins fan myself, we should take in game one of these days."

Elsie smiled faintly, studiously keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the half-empty glass she clutched in both hands.

"She used to play, actually," interjected Gellis, interrupting the awkward silence.

"Oh yeah?" asked Zack, surprised. "Cool!"

Elsie slid down a little in her seat, loath to become the topic of conversation in present company. "Yeah well, that was a lonnnng time ago."

"I kinda did figure you as the athletic type," continued Jeff. "So what's your favourite position?"

Elsie shot him a sharp look. "Excuse me?"

Gellis pretended to take a swig from her glass and lightly nudged the side of Elsie's foot. "Hockey," she said, sotto voce.

"Oh...defence..."

"Geez, what were you thinking?" laughed Zack.

Elsie slipped further down in her seat; she could feel her cheeks flushing. Gawd this night can't end soon enough…

"You okay E.T.?" asked Rollie, his normally jovial expression replaced by one of concern.

The blonde smiled weakly. "Sure, just...a bit of a headache..."

"Ah, that sucks," said Jeff with infuriating banality.

_Just…shut up..._

Gellis wrapped an arm around Elsie and drew her close. "This one's had a bit of a rough week," she said, squeezing the blonde affectionately. "Haven't you girl?"

Elsie closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her friend's shoulder. "Hmmm..."

The conversation thankfully drifted to other topics; Elsie was content to rest her eyes and continue to lean on her raven-haired friend for both physical and emotional support. At least this way she didn't have Jeff's immaculately-coiffed visage constantly filling her field of view.

A few minutes later her phone buzzed, the customized vibration instantly telling her who was calling.

Her heart lurched.

_I'm sorry, Lara..._

 

~oOo~

 

Elsie stepped out onto the walkway, drawing the crisp night air into her lungs. Her ordeal was over.

_Finally._

She quickly scanned the street and noted with relief the absence of Jeff's red Corvette. At least she'd been spared the false platitudes that would have been required had he still been present.

She made her way to join her companions near the curb.

She hugged Zack, pressing her cheek into his chest. "Hey, take care of yourself, yeah?" she said, smiling. "And try not to spill anything next time..."

Zack hugged Elsie in return, gently pressing his arm into the hollow of her back. "No worries…once I get a position on Apple's board of directors I'll offer all of you guys a job."

Elsie drew back and shook her head. "Keep right on dreaming, you nut..."

Zack grinned back. "Thanks, Elsie...for everything."

With that, he turned to bid farewell to Rollie.

"You sure you won't change your mind about that ride?" asked Gellis, nodding to her car parked across the street. "I really don't mind, you know."

Elsie smiled. "Nah, I've been a bad girl, I haven't been to the gym once this week. And I could use a bit of air right now..."

"Well if you're sure..."

"Ya, thanks, though. Anyway…see you Monday!"

Elsie turned to leave, only for Gellis to grab hold of her arm. "Elsie, I'm sorry about this morning...I know I shouldn't have stuck my nose in your business..."

"Hey, don't torture yourself, I know your heart was in the right place," the blonde smiled slyly. "Even if your nose wasn't."

"I just worry, you know?"

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, you're such a mother hen...need I remind you you're just six years older than me?"

Gellis abruptly stopped straightening Elsie's collar. "Uh…sorry," she said sheepishly. "It's just…I don't want to see you end up a resident of that shelter you help out at..."

With that, the raven-haired smiled sadly and drew off. Elsie watched her friend cross the street and get into her car, exchanging a parting wave with the woman as she drove off.

She took a deep breath. _It's not that kind of shelter, Gel..._

Elsie wished she could tell her friend what the real source of her stress was of late, but that would be gambling their friendship on a tale that would undoubtedly seem utterly nonsensical - at least to anyone not privy to the world of Lara Croft.

No, she'd have to deal with this alone.

She turned down the alley, her mind swimming.

 

~oOo~

 

She knew she couldn't keep ignoring Lara's calls. For one, it was killing her not to talk to her friend. But more importantly, the brunette would undoubtedly put two and two together before long and figure out something was amiss – if she hadn't already.

But at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to tell the Englishwoman she'd misplaced her confidence in her.

The only other option was to lie.

It was her very own _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario.

_Dammit all…_

It was then that she caught sight of movement in the shadows up ahead. She came to a stop, her eyes straining to distinguish a shape from the darkness. This was not a route she often took, and never before at night - the alleyways' lack of lighting was playing its own cruel mind games.

The form shot out from a group of overturned garbage cans, crossing before a puddle that reflected a faint light from a nearby window.

A black cat. And it had crossed her path.

_Great..._

She shuffled on, unconsciously fingering her clover pendant.

As for Lara, she had to make a decision. But in truth, she had no idea what to do - there were no good options available to her. Yet she understood that staying the course was possibly the worst of the bunch. She had to tell Lara something.

She just had to figure out a way to break it to her.

_Hi Lara, how's it going? Oh by the way, I lost your twin after all of twelve hours and called her a psycho for good measure...no, I don't know where she is, sorry...my bad…_

She shuddered. There would be no positive twist to put on this.

Her foot scraped loudly along the concrete as she came to an abrupt halt.

Up ahead, a car was parked conspicuously in the alleyway.

_Red…oh shit…_

The hairs on the nape of her neck bristled; she swallowed nervously, mentally flogging herself for not accepting Gellis' offer. _You and your damned independence, woman...it's going to get you into trouble someday..._

She steadied her breathing.

_Okay...it's probably nothing...paranoia's a bitch..._

She moved closer, trying to determine if there was an occupant within - but the darkness was pervasive.

She dug out her LED flashlight from her satchel and thumbed the switch.

At this distance the car barely fell within the light's illumination - but it was enough.

She could just make out a Corvette's traditional racing flag emblem emblazoned on the red hood.

_No...no, no, no..._

The windshield was frustratingly reflecting the glare of her flashlight – at this distance it was impossible to determine if there was anyone inside.

She flicked the light off.

She stood there, frozen, waiting for the car's headlights to flash and send her bolting down the alleyway.

So...now what, Jeff? Are we going to keep playing this twisted game of yours?

Part of her desperately wanted to turn around and sprint back the way she came. But that would be admitting to the photographer that he really, truly was getting under her skin...and into her head.

_Oh no…you're not going to win this, you bastard._

She would continue on, red Corvette or not.

She took a deep breath.

And didn't move.

Her feet refused to take one step further. She could feel her brow beading with sweat, her heart beating at an unnatural pace. Her flashlight trembled in her palm.

Her body was screaming at her, her instincts echoing vigorously in agreement.

_Oh, screw this..._

She turned on her heel -

\- and plowed straight into someone.

"Oof!"

She drew back hastily and thumbed her flashlight. An intense chill shot down her spinal column.

_Oh shit…_

A grin from the looming figure before her. "Hey, E.T., fancy meeting you here."

_Play it cool, girl...above all don't let him smell fear..._

"I would prefer you not address me in that manner, Mister Klimpman," said Elsie with as much false confidence as she could muster, hoping the slight quiver lining her voice was only in her head.

"Why not? We're friends, right?"

"Oh, for - enough with the fucking games, all right?!"

_Well so much for that..._

"I just thought I'd give you a ride home," said Jeff, seemingly unperturbed at her aggressive outburst. "You can't blame a guy for being friendly."

"This isn't 'friendly' and you know it!" snapped the blonde. "So, what is it you really want, Jeffrey? As if I didn't already know?"

A shrug. "Just to be a pal," said Jeff smugly. "That's not so bad, is it?"

Elsie let out a frustrated huff. "God, you must take me for an idiot! Actually scratch that, I am an idiot, just for keeping this conversation going -"

She stormed off in the direction of the Corvette.

_Keep walking...don't look back..._

She'd gone just a few paces when she felt a hand clamp firmly around her arm. "Hey, where you going?"

Elsie jerked her arm back violently, succeeding in extricating herself from Jeff's grasp. "Don't you fucking EVER touch me!"

An unnerving smile spread across the photographer's features. "Well that's going to be tough…"

Elsie could feel the color drain from her face. _So that's it..._

"You bast—"

He moved for her.

Elsie bolted - there was no pretense of trying to put on a brave face any longer.

She was prey.

Elsie resorted to her best weapon - her speed.

She sprinted down the dark alleyway, her legs straining to carry her away from the heavy footfalls unnervingly close behind.

_Go go go!_

She was quickly coming up on the red Corvette. Without slowing, she swung her flashlight as hard as she could against the driver's side window. The glass smashed inwards, Elsie losing her grip on her flashlight as glass shards cut her hand. But it had the desired effect.

Continuing her sprint, the car's alarm blared loudly behind her.

"Fuck!"

She heard the chirp of a key fob, and the alarm quickly ceased. It had lasted only a few seconds, but she desperately hoped it was enough.

_Just...another...few...blocks..._

He'd give up before then, surely...

Without the flashlight, she never saw the invisible chain link fence in the darkness. Plowing into its mesh full-force, the steel flexed under the impact and sent her falling backwards onto the concrete.

_Shit!_

The fence had always been open, at least during the day. Her luck was nothing if not consistent.

Her body stinging from the impact, she jumped to her feet and desperately scrambled up the chainlink wall – there was no time to blindly fumble around for the gate's handle.

Panic fed her arms and legs. She'd nearly clambered over the top when she felt her left leg being pulled on with frightening force. She lost her grip and fell.

Her injured wrist shrieked in agony as she hit the ground. But at least she had momentarily broken free from his grip.

She rolled to her feet and scampered back until she hit the alleyway's brick wall.

In the near darkness, she could barely make out Klipman's silhouette as he loomed closer.

She had one last, desperate, chance. She reared back and swung her first at her assailant, putting all she had behind the punch - injured wrist be damned.

And missed.

Her momentum carried her forward and she stumbled. Falling to her hands and knees, the impact elicited another bolt of pain shooting up her arm.

Before she could react she felt herself being picked up, a powerful arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Terror now well and truly overcame the blonde.

She screamed.

A hand quickly closed itself around her mouth. But one finger had slipped too close.

She bit the intruding digit, drawing blood.

"FUCK!"

The hand over her mouth jerked away.

She drew in a deep breath -

And was slammed violently into the wall, the back of her skull impacting with such force that it immediately extinguished her energy. She couldn't even raise her head, let alone cry out. The only reason she was still on her feet was her assailant pressing hard against her.

She was barely conscious.

Her senses were muffled; she could only vaguely sense his heavy breathing against her face.

"You've made this a Hell of a lot harder than it needed to be," growled Klipman, his words sounding like they were being mumbled through a thick down pillow. "And now I gotta get my car fixed on top of it all."

"N...no..."

He clasped his hands on both sides of her skull and leered closer.

"I'll make damned sure I get my money's worth out of you..."

And smashed her head against the wall once more.

The flickering candle that was Elsie's consciousness was snuffed out.


	7. The Prodigal Doppelgänger

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 7

Muffled birdsong was the first clue she'd emerged from the nightmares.

Elsie gradually became aware of her own breathing; slow, shallow, as that of hidden prey hoping the predator will pass them by.

She lay on her back, afraid to move. Terrifying images began flooding back: a desperate run through the darkness, Jack the Ripper nipping at her heels. Flashes of intense pain intermixed with the resurgence of deeply buried memories.

And yet, here she was - somehow. Still breathing.

She was clearly indoors, but where, exactly?

Then she heard it: barely audible, yet distinct.

A water droplet striking steel. Followed a short time later by another. And another. She recognized the pattern.

A leaky faucet. _Her leaky faucet._

_Home...?_

She slowly opened her eyes.

The familiar ceiling of her bedroom coalesced into view, painted in midday brightness.

She cautiously craned her neck from side to side: she was alone.

Sitting up, she immediately groaned from a painful throbbing from the back of her skull. The nightmare of the previous night had been all too real.

She was still clad in the previous day's garb, the garments now scuffed, stained with dirt and blood. Three of the fingers of her her left hand were bandaged in gauze. Atop her night table sat a glass of water, partly consumed.

But of greater significance were the sensations from her body. She was aching everywhere, but the sickening soreness she'd experienced all too often in her youth was miraculously absent.

She slowly swung her legs over the bedside and grimaced at the pain in her wrist, now visibly swollen. She reached back with her bandaged hand - she could feel something stuck in her hair, matted and crumbling under her fingers.

Dried blood.

Her eyes fell on her satchel propped up against the wall, as though ready for her morning commute.

The seeming banality of her surroundings was unsettling.

She slid off the bed and cautiously explored her flat. The front and back doors were locked, the place showing no signs of forced entry. Apart from droplets of dried blood leading from the front door to the bathroom, everything appeared unnervingly normal.

The danger, somehow, had passed. She was safe.

She staggered back to bed and collapsed, screaming into the pillows.

 

~oOo~

 

Gellis was reviewing the new applicants' files when Elsie shuffled into her office and closed the door behind her.

"Morning," said the raven-haired woman as she flipped through the documents. "Hey, guess what, Ellen got two respondents, so we might be able to solve our intern shortage if they...um..."

The young blonde was still clad in her coat, scarf and beanie, clearly having come straight to her office.

"Gel...I need to tell you something," said Elsie, her forehead still pressed against the door. There was a slight raspiness in her voice that caught the older woman's attention.

"Elsie? You okay?"

The blonde slowly shook her head. "No," she said, her voice cracking. "No, I'm not..."

The raven-haired woman sprang into action. Gently pulling the blonde away from the door, she sat her friend on her office's small couch.

"Good Lord Elsie, what happened? You look absolutely beat..."

It was no exaggeration. The blonde looked like she'd hadn't slept in days, her normally clear, pale grey eyes bloodshot with exhaustion. Her cheeks, in contrast, were frighteningly ashen, as though every last corpuscle of blood had been drained away.

Her friend looked to be on the verge of zombiefication.

"Okay, this is obviously not about your car," concluded the raven-haired woman.

The blonde shook her head.

"He followed me, Gel," she began in a tiny voice.

Gellis frowned. "Followed you? Who? Elsie, who followed -"

Elsie's eyes locked with hers.

"No," gasped Gellis. "I hope you don't mean...Friday night?"

The blonde closed her eyes and nodded, her lower lip trembling.

The raven-haired woman wrapped a comforting arm around Elsie and drew her close. "I'm so sorry...I never thought he'd actually _stalk_ you!"

Her friend was choking back tears. "He did...more than that, Gel..."

Gellis' stomach twisted sharply. "What are you saying...oh my God, Elsie, did...did he -"

"No," replied the blonde, shaking her head. "At least...I don't think so..."

She shot a pained look at her friend. "But he wanted to, Gel...he was _going_ to...I don't know what stopped him..."

Gellis gently squeezed her friend's hand. "Tell me everything."

The blonde took several deep breaths. "He was waiting for me, a few blocks down...I tried to fight him off, but...he knocked me out..."

The raven-haired woman clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God!"

"...and then...I woke up at home the next morning..."

Gellis blinked. "But what happened in between?"

"I don't know," admitted the blonde miserably. "I have no memory of getting home...and that's where it starts getting really bizarre..."

Gellis' eyebrows shot up. "That's where it _starts_?"

"I woke up in bed," she explained, "And I was still wearing the same clothes as the night before, but there were signs that I'd been conscious...I just can't remember any of it..."

The two young women sat in silence for a moment, Gellis digesting the sickening news.

"This is my fault," said the raven-haired woman heavily. "I should never have put you in that situation -"

"You couldn't have known, Gel," interjected Elsie. "Hell's Bells, even I never figured he'd pull something like this..."

"Even so, I should've -"

"No," said the blonde, pressing two fingers to her friend's lips. "Don't. No blame game."

Gellis sighed. "Did they get the bastard, at least?"

"Who?"

"The police, of course!"

Elsie's eyes shifted downward. "I...I didn't call them..."

"What? Elsie, you have to report this!"

"Gel, you don't understand -"

"Please don't tell me you're worried about the goddam stigma! You were the victim, for Heaven's sake!"

"It's not that!" shot back the blonde a little too forcefully. Biting her lip, she continued on a gentler tone. "Gel, he would never have let me go...I was going to end up on some missing persons list, I'm sure of it. But something happened that night that let me get away..."

"So?" asked Gellis. "Let the cops figure that out."

Elsie shook her head painfully. "I must've done something..."

"What do you mean?"

The blonde swallowed nervously. "I think I came to at some point," she explained. "And...and then..."

Her friend looked to be on the verge of emotional implosion. "Hey, hey," said Gellis as she drew the young woman into a protective hug. "Don't you go putting silly ideas in your head, okay? Especially not THAT one..."

Elsie cried into her friend's shoulder. "But how could I have gotten away...?"

Gellis stroked her friend's mane. "You probably ran," said the raven-haired woman. "No way he could've caught you, I've seen you run...or maybe someone scared him off. Or a dozen other possible explanations."

"I hope so, Gel..."

"And you should take the day off," offered the raven-haired woman. "Go to the hospital and get yourself checked out. I'll talk to Nathan -"

"Please don't," countered Elsie, clutching her friend. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I need to get back into the routine, take my mind off this shit..."

"Elsie, you really should go to the police, memory blank be damned...that rat needs to be put behind bars!"

The blonde shook her head and buried her face into her companion's shoulder.

 

~oOo~

 

The rest of the day proceeded relatively uneventfully. Getting back into the swing of things had been a judicious emotional tonic, and being surrounded by friends and co-workers had at least helped alleviate her jitters.

Elsie had finally succeeded in extracting a promise from Gellis not to go to the authorities nor to speak of anyone of what she'd told her. Convincing her friend had proved difficult, but in the end her pleas had finally persuaded the raven-haired woman to acquiesce to her request - against her better judgement, as Gellis had stated in undisguised reluctance.

"You didn't kill anyone, for Christ's sake! Get that crazy idea out of your head right now, young lady!"

Unsurprisingly, Jeff Klipman hadn't showed up to work - just walking by his office gave Elsie the chills. There were two possible explanations for his absence: either he was on the run, or...

Elsie shuddered at the thought. She despised the meticulously-coiffed Californian with every fiber of her being, but his greatest crime would be to saddle her with the emotional burden of taking a life. Her empathy for Lara Croft intensified to new levels.

She knew the shock of killing, even in self-defence, could potentially explain her missing memory. She'd witnessed it in some of the women at the shelter: intense trauma could induce horrific episodes to bury themselves deeply, hidden from consciousness yet always haunting.

Part of her hoped to never discover the truth about that night.

Though Elsie had drawn comfort from getting back into the routine of work, she'd avoided socializing with most of her co-workers, finding it difficult to maintain a "business-as-usual" facade. Fortunately staff shortages were keeping everyone busy enough so that the blonde's uncharacteristic reticence wasn't readily noticed.

Late in the afternoon found Elsie in one of the reading rooms, trying not to wilt under a prospective client's critical examination of the Gallery's leather-bound copy of the Congressional Deliberations of 1774.

"Printed by William and Thomas Bradford," recited the white-haired scholar Nathan had introduced as Randolph R. Faust - who just happened to be the Dean of the Kennedy School of Government. "This would make it the later edition...rather unfortunate."

Elsie swallowed anxiously. She was infinitely more comfortable as a procurer of rare tomes, rather than as a seller. But everyone these days was being asked to fill multiple roles.

"It is the earliest edition to contain the Congress' petition to the King, and also includes ten pages of General Gage's personal correspondence," added Elsie in an attempt to shore up the document's desirability. There was a quiver in her voice that she hoped was registering just in her head.

At a list price of sixty thousand dollars, the folio was by far the most valuable piece of the Gallery's collection Elsie had ever been tasked to sell, and the stress of the deliberations were taking their toll. It wasn't helping matters that she kept catching glimpses of someone loitering at the reading room's glass window, seemingly trying to get her attention.

_Not now..._

"There is considerable debate as to whether the King ever personally laid eyes on the petition," said the man as he slowly flipped through the aged sheets of parchment. "It is generally assumed to have been intercepted by Lord North."

Elsie steadied her breathing. The fact that the man was old enough to be her grandfather and was infinitely better versed in period documents was doing nothing to dissuade her feelings of inadequacy. Elsie was far from a neophyte, but this man Faust was an authority, Harvard bred, no less. How could she possibly hope to counter his arguments with any measure of credibility? It was a literary duel she stood no chance of winning.

"That may be true, but one must consider that the next Congress convened in May 1775, immediately following Lexington and Concord," added the blonde in order to convey the significance of the last Congressional session prior to the start of the Revolution. She inwardly winced at her own words - it was a desperate attempt to enhance the documents' pedigree.

The man gave no outward reaction, instead continuing his methodical inspection of the folio with an occasional shake of the head here, a slight tsk of disapproval there.

There was a light rap on the reading room's window - so light as to be almost undetectable, but at Elsie's current stress level it might as well have been Andre the Giant blowing into a vuvuzela.

She turned and shot the interloper a scathing look. _Just wait your freaking turn -_

And drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the young woman staring back at her through the glass wall.

_Doppie!?_

She couldn't believe her eyes.

_No, wait..._

Brown eyes, chestnut hair, ponytail, lightly tanned skin...

"Holy shit!"

"I beg your pardon?"

She whirled back to Faust. "I'm sorry!" she blurted excitedly, "I'm terribly sorry but I really have to excuse myself for a moment -"

Without waiting for an acknowledgement she quickly exited the waiting room, barely remembering to close the door behind her in her excitement. She knew it was a violation of protocol to leave a client alone with such a valuable item of the collection, but at the moment she had much more important matters to attend to.

Lara!

She'd been about to throw herself at the brunette when circumstances compelled her to restrain herself: one, the Gallery was ill-suited to the kind of overt affection the blonde wanted to convey, and two, Lara's expression was not exactly enthusiastic. And Elsie had a good idea why.

Her stomach twisted: avoiding the issue had come back to bite her in the ass. Shit...

"Lara, I'm so sorry," ventured the blonde hesitantly. "I just never imagined you'd come all the way here..."

The brunette blinked. "Sorry for what?"

It was Elsie's turn to be confused. "Well...for not returning your calls," she replied. "I thought...isn't that why you're here?"

Lara seemed to hesitate before replying. "Well...no need to fret over that. I actually had some business in Boston, Sam's already on her way back now. I just thought I'd take a later flight and see how you were getting on."

Elsie's shoulders sagged. There was no longer any point in avoiding it.

"Oh..."

Lara's eyebrows raised. "I take it this isn't a good time?"

"No!" blurted Elsie. "No, it's not that...you know I'll always make time for you..."

"I did stop by your flat before coming here, but if it's not convenient -"

"It's convenient!" interjected the blonde. "I just...um...wait here a second..."

Elsie sprinted down the hall and opened the door to Gellis' office just wide enough to poke her head within. "Gel!"

The raven-haired woman muttered something into the phone she was cradling against her neck and looked at her friend. "Uh, busy..."

"It's an emergency!"

"I'll call you back," said Gellis before dropping the receiver into its cradle. "What's going on?"

"Can you please cover for me?" pleaded Elsie. "There's a Randolph Faust in the Scarlett room, he's looking over the 1774 Congressional records and I have to leave -"

Gellis scrambled to her feet. "You left him alone with that?"

"Sorry!"

The two women hurried down to the reading room, Gellis giving Lara a curious glance as she shot past.

"I owe you big time," breathed Elsie as the raven-haired woman grasped the door handle.

"Forget it," said Gellis. She nodded in Lara's direction. "You'll tell me what this is all about eventually, right?"

"Um...sure..."

With that her coworker entered the reading room, leaving the blonde and brunette together in the hall.

Elsie chewed her lip. "I guess...there's no point in avoiding it now..."

"Avoiding?"

Elsie ran her hand back through her hair and sighed. "I screwed up, Lara. Big time."

"You? I find that rather hard to believe."

"It's true," insisted Elsie. "Doppie, she...left."

"Left? To go where?"

"I don't know," admitted the blonde. "She...she got a little violent...I freaked out..."

"What'd she do?" asked the brunette, frowning.

"It doesn't matter now," said Elsie miserably. "Point is, I should've kept a cooler head...I actually called her a psycho, can you believe it?"

Lara sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I should never have burdened you with her..."

"Don't say that," interjected Elsie. "I really wanted to help her...and now thanks to my big mouth she's gone..."

Lara stared intently at the blonde. "Would you take her back, if you could?"

"Are you kidding? In a New York minute!" exclaimed Elsie, nodding vigorously.

"After what she did to you?" huffed Lara disbelievingly.

"That...was partly my fault," countered the blonde. "She thought I was making fun of her..."

"That's no excuse for becoming violent."

"But I could've handled it so much better...and I really think she regretted what she did..."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No, but I think it's why she let," insisted Elsie. "And if I'm right, well...it tells me there's a humanity in her, something I can reach. I can make this work, Lara."

The archaeologist shook her head. "She's not worth it."

"How can you say that?" asked Elsie angrily. "My God, she's completely alone in the world, you said so yourself. And weren't you the one who said you felt responsible for her? When did you stop giving a shit?"

Lara crossed her arms. "I'm beginning to think maybe the world is better off without her."

"I can't believe this," returned Elsie in exasperation, conscious of the stares their escalating conversation was beginning to draw from staff and clients. "Here I was thinking you'd be upset at me for losing her and instead you're ready to throw her to the wolves! What the fuck?!"

"Would you still be saying that if she'd broken your wrist?"

"I can help her with that!" implored the blonde. "If I can figure out what makes her tick, I can...hey...wait a minute..."

She looked at the brunette with a dawning realization. Stepping closer, she gently brushed back trailing chestnut locks from the archaeologist's cheek.

The exquisite inch-long scar that graced Lara's right cheekbone was gone.

She paused a moment to let the realization sink in. "Are you kidding me?"

A smile slowly formed on the brunette's features.

"Clever girl..."


	8. A Glimmer of Hope

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 8

Mondays sucked.

It was one of the fundamental constants of the Universe, along with its insidious compatriots, Death and Taxes. Garfield had had it right all along.

This particular Monday had been no exception - in fact it had been worse than most. Coming after two days of jittery nervousness while cooped up in her home, Elsie had to also contend with a worsening cold that normally would've kept her curled up under the blankets. But sick or no, she'd needed the distraction that work provided.

As a consequence of which, she was now thoroughly exhausted. And now was facing a three mile trek through downtown Portland in order to get home, a journey she normally wouldn't bat an eye at. But all she wanted to do was flop her tired body straight into bed. The urge was powerful enough to almost persuade the blonde to overcome her intense aversion to bussing.

_Beam me home, Scotty..._

At least the day was ending on a bit of an upward trend.

"So do you have the ability to alter your appearance?" asked the blonde as she and Doppie strolled down the bustling sidewalk. "Is it a kind of chameleonic power?"

The doppelgänger nodded. "I can vary my appearance through the use of contact lenses, hair colouring and makeup."

Elsie chuckled. "Okay, that's not exactly a 'power'…so, Lara's the only person you can imitate, then."

Doppie shrugged.

"What about the voice?" inquired Elsie. "That little reverberation you have...I couldn't detect it in there. Can you turn it on and off just like that?"

"Of course," replied the doppelgänger, her speech instantly dropping its subtle tenebrous aspect to sound identical to her template's.

"Is it hard? I mean, could you talk that way all the time if you had to?"

"If I so desired," returned Doppie, glancing at the blonde. "Why?"

"Well, it's just...your normal voice doesn't...um..."

"Yes?"

"It doesn't exactly sound natural," breathed the blonde furtively. "No offense."

"None taken," said Doppie.

_Whew._

They continued on, the Gallery receding in the distance. The avenue was bustling with the congestion typical of late afternoon, Doppie pausing every now and then to peer curiously at their surroundings that Elsie had long since taken for granted. The doppelgänger was definitely not shy about blatantly staring at people either, the blonde noted: most pedestrians readily wilted under the striking brunette's unblinking gaze.

Elsie smiled to herself as she squeezed around a lineup at a curbside hotdog stand. _Just be thankful she still has her contacts in, folks…_

"So, about today," she continued, "I'd appreciate you being more up front with me in the future, okay?"

Doppie gave no reaction.

"Really," insisted Elsie. "You could've just come back, you know. No need for subterfuge."

"Perhaps not for you," returned the doppelgänger.

"What do you mean?"

Doppie remained silent for a time, to the point that Elsie thought the doppelgänger would not respond.

"Hellooooo…"

"I needed to be certain," said Doppie finally, her tone strangely hushed.

Elsie lightly grasped the doppelgänger's arm and came to a stop.

"Don't," said Elsie firmly. "Stop doubting, okay? No need for games...I guess trust is a bit of an issue for you, isn't it?"

The doppelgänger gazed back in silence.

The blonde sighed. "I do want to help you, Doppie, don't ever doubt that. And for what it's worth, I wasn't making fun of you. I might laugh and tease from time to time, but it's just in good fun, it doesn't mean I'm mocking you. So please…no more explosions, okay? You really need to reign in that temper."

Doppie's expression was the picture of inscrutability.

_Heh...best poker face ever._

Elsie slid her hand down to squeeze the doppelgänger's. "Deal?"

Doppie's shoulders stiffened. "I...will try."

Elsie lightly poked the doppelgänger in the forehead for emphasis.

"Try really hard."

They resumed their stroll, the blonde feeling decidedly heartened to have the doppelgänger back in her life - potential injuries notwithstanding.

 _And it's not just because she happens to look like Lara_ , she told herself, quickly sweeping away the uncomfortable thought. After all, she'd agreed to help before she'd ever laid eyes on her.

"Um...so where were you these last few days, anyway?"

"Exploring," replied Doppie. "There is much to see in this city."

"Now that's something I can definitely help you with," said the blonde. "Portland might not be London, but it has its fair share of attractions. I'd be happy to give you a guided tour if you like...well, once I get my car back, that is."

She eyed the doppelgänger's Lara-ish garb. "Where'd you get the duds, by the way? I thought you didn't bring any luggage?"

"Given your girl scout morals, I believe you'd prefer not knowing."

"Hey, I'm NOT a girl scout!" exclaimed the blonde. "And what do you mean by -"

She cupped a hand over her mouth as she scanned the doppelgänger up and down.

"Oh my God, they're hot!"

Doppie ran her fingers along her sleeve. "Truly? I thought Lara's fashion taste was rather banal."

"That...that's not -"

Elsie whirled on the doppelgänger, stomping her foot for good measure. "Okay, what did we just say about being up front with each other?"

"I had a need, and no money," returned Doppie with infuriating indifference.

"I can't believe this," said the blonde, shaking her head. "I suppose it's the same with those contacts, too? Doppie, you can't steal!"

A smirk. "I assure you I can."

Elsie pressed her palm to her forehead: her headache was threatening a major resurrection. "Let me rephrase...I meant you _mustn't_ steal."

"No one was harmed."

"Oh, for - that's not the point!" groaned the blonde.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "Doppie, I haven't had a great last few days...I'm tired, I have a cold and my wrist hurts to Hell. I was really looking forward to a quiet evening at home, preferably free of arguments, okay?"

"As you like."

Elsie drew in a long breath and opened her eyes, looking pleadingly to the doppelgänger. "And please promise me you won't steal again, okay? That's not something I need on my conscience."

"Yet you befriend a killer."

The blonde gasped. "You take that back! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

"I seem to have struck a nerve, yes?" asked the doppelgänger serenely, clasping her hands behind her back.

Elsie's hands balled into fists. "Bingo, Sherlock!"

Their heated exchange was drawing curious glances from passing pedestrians; Elsie knew she had to be careful - if anyone were to pay actual attention to their conversation...

The doppelgänger tilted her head slightly. "You're protective of her," she remarked. "Rather ironic, that."

"I'm not her bodyguard," hissed Elsie. "But I get pissed off when people assign labels to her, all right? She tortures herself enough already, even without those stinking British tabloids calling her a crackpot. And for you to call her a...a...dammit, Doppie, you wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for Lara! She actually gave a shit about you, doesn't that count for anything?"

The doppelgänger's wisp of a smile caught the blonde off guard. It wasn't the intimidating, ominous grin she'd occasionally witnessed from the creature, either.

"I'm beginning to understand her regard for you," said Doppie softly.

Elsie stood in stupefaction as the doppelgänger sauntered off.

Doppie's observation had caught her flat-footed. It was the first faint glimmer of humanity she'd witnessed from the doppelgänger, however subtle. The first words even approaching kindness.

Dare she hope?

She sprinted off in pursuit of the brunette.

"Hey, wait up!"

~oOo~

Elsie thumbed the confirmation button and set her tablet down on the kitchen counter. "Okay, it's ordered."

Doppie looked over at her while continuing to slowly stir the contents of the crockpot. "Ordered?"

"Bunk bed," explained the blonde as she shuffled over to join the doppelgänger at the stove. "IKEA had a sale and it includes free delivery, so win-win."

"You do remember I don't require sleep, yes?"

"Let's not go over that again, okay?" returned Elsie. "It's gonna happen. And at least now you'll have a proper bed to sleep in. Oh, and I get top bunk."

"Why must I be on the bottom?"

Elsie smiled impishly. "Whoa, bit of a charged statement there, Doppie...are you saying you prefer being on top?"

The doppelgänger's expression was innocent. "If I must sleep, the top would seem to be less confining."

"Oh my God, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

A raised eyebrow. "Is there some hidden meaning in sleeping arrangements?"

Elsie fought hard to stifle a grin. "Um...not exactly, it's just...never mind."

Leaning close, she peered into the bubbling pot - the noodles had reached the desired tenderness. "Okay, that looks good...you can stop stirring and turn off the heat."

The doppelgänger duly ceased her culinary ministrations. Elsie was thankful she was not exhibiting the same reluctance at sampling food as she was with slumber - in fact she'd agreed to prepare the chicken noodle soup - under Elsie's guidance - without so much as a word of protest.

_Baby steps…_

"So this will aid with your illness?"

Elsie retrieved two bowls from the cupboards. "It's just a cold, but yeah, it should."

"So, this is medicine, then? Should I be consuming this?"

Elsie smiled as she transferred the bowls to the breakfast nook. "No worries, it's legitimate food that just happens to have certain minor medicinal properties. You'll be fine."

A chime rang out from her study. _Generic ringtone…this better not be another blasted survey…_

"Back in a bit," she said before scurrying down the hall. She unplugged her cell from its charging cable and glanced at number. No surprise: _Unknown Caller._

She thumbed the screen. "Hello?"

A pause, followed by an unknown female voice. "Er…is this Elsie?"

The blonde frowned. "Yes…who's this?"

"Um…just a sec…"

Elsie had the distinct impression the caller hadn't expected her to answer. But who was she?

There was the sound of muffled fumbling which Elsie recognized as the phone being passed from one set of hands to another.

"Well, she's alive at least," said the faint unknown voice.

"Who's this?" repeated the blonde.

Her question was met by muted footfalls followed by a door closing.

Then by several long seconds of complete silence.

Finally a voice. Low, tentative.

"Elsie?"

_Oh my God..._

"Lara?"

Her reply opened the floodgate.

"Bloody Hell, Elsie!" barked a very irate sounding Lara Croft. "Are you ghosting me?"

Elsie drew in a sharp breath. "No!" she returned anxiously. "No, of course not, Lara. God, no!"

"Then why are you avoiding my calls?"

_Shit…_

"I…guilty as charged," said the blonde in a tiny voice. "I'm sorry…"

"Are you upset with me?"

"NO!" replied Elsie shrilly. "No, not at all…in fact…I was afraid it'd be the other way around…"

A pregnant pause, followed by a sigh.

"What's happened?"

"It...it's fine now," explained the blonde. "Really…it's all good."

"Elsieee…"

She could recognize the warning tone in her friend's voice. She was not about to wiggle off this particular hook.

She swallowed nervously before continuing. "Doppie, she...left."

A deafening silence. Clearly her declaration needed elaborating.

"We had a bit of a...a disagreement, I guess you could say. A misunderstanding, really, but she did leave and...I...I was so afraid you'd be disappointed in me for losing her…"

A low groan.

"Elsie, that is utter bollocks," lamented the archaeologist. "If I'm disappointed at all it's that you'd even _think_ that…"

Elsie's stomach lurched painfully at the hurt in Lara's voice.

"I'm sorry, Lara," whimpered the blonde. "I'm so sorry..."

"Don't."

"I never meant to...God, I screwed everything up...and now I've gone and hurt you on top of everything else. I'm such a dweeb..."

"Stop it," countered the archaeologist. "Just stop it, all right? Oh, bloody Hell..."

She could hear the raspiness seeping into the Englishwoman's voice - she was struggling to keep her own emotions in check.

Elsie palmed her wet cheeks. "I just...don't want to let you down, Lara...in anything..."

The archaeologist drew in a ragged breath.

"How could you EVER let me down? Elsie, you mean so much...sod it..."

Lara's voice broke.

Elsie wiped her nose against her sleeve. This was going from bad to worse.

"Aren't we a fine mess?" said the blonde with as much fragile cheer as she could muster. "We're both so terrified of hurting each other..."

"I was terrified!" cried Lara plaintively. "I thought I'd taken advantage of you, that I'd damaged our friendship...or worse, that something had happened to you..."

The knot in Elsie's stomach tightened further.

"Lara, I...I didn't realize..."

"I was a hair's breadth away from coming over there...if you hadn't answered now I was booking a flight...it was killing me not knowing..."

Lara's voice was hoarse with anguish, yet her words had warmed the blonde's heart.

"Heh...strange you should say that," returned Elsie, cheering slightly. "But I guess I know how to get you to come over here, huh? Just ignore your calls and - presto! Instant Lara!"

"Don't you dare!" blurted Lara in an ungainly mix of grief and laughter. "I swear if I have to come over there to find you safe and sound I'll bill you for the sodding tickets! Both ways!"

Elsie laughed softly as she clumsily wiped the tears still trickling down her face. "Okay...fair enough...I'll take your calls from now on. Promise."

"Thank you!"

"Are we...are we good?"

"Yes," echoed Lara, sniffling. "Of course we are, Elsie. Always. I'm just so bloody relieved..."

"I'm so glad," said Elsie, her shoulders sagging in profound relief. "And it's not all bad, Doppie did come back earlier today...and I think she's going to make a real go of it this time, Lara..."

An exasperated breath. "You could've mentioned that earlier!"

"Oh...sorry," returned the blonde. "That's totally on me. I haven't exactly been thinking straight these last few days..."

"Well, she's back now, so you can stop fretting."

"Oh, it's not that..."

"Oh…problems at work?"

"No, just...life stuff..."

"Would you like to talk about it?" offered the archaeologist. "And don't worry, this phone has unlimited minutes."

Elsie hesitated. She desperately _did_ want to talk about it, especially to the one soul in the universe who truly knew her. But as protective as she was of Lara Croft, she knew the opposite to be equally true.

If Klipman wasn't dead he very likely would be, wherever he was.

She wouldn't. She couldn't.

"Thanks for offering, Lara," returned the blonde. "Really, it means a lot...but this is something I have to deal with on my own."

A frustrated huff. "I suppose I don't have much credibility to argue that particular point, do I?"

"Not much," agreed Elsie, smiling.

"Fine, but if - wait a minute," said the archaeologist. "Elsie...this isn't about who I think it is, is it? Please tell me that bastard isn't back in your life -"

"No!" blurted the blonde, detecting the rapidly swelling vehemence in the brunette's tone. "No, definitely not. Down, girl. Secure from General Quarters. Initiate reactor shutdown."

A sigh of relief. "Fine, then...but if you ever change your mind, I'm right here, yes?"

"I know," said Elsie softly. "And I really appreciate that...maybe once it's all behind me I'll be in a better place to talk about it..."

"I hope so," affirmed the archaeologist. "You bottle up so much inside you, Elsie..."

"Look who's talking."

"Yes, and you helped me with that."

Elsie felt her emotions threatening to overflow once more. Memories came flooding back of campfire talks, whispered anguish in the confines of a sleeping bag, the tear-stained baring of souls under a canopy of stars.

They had shared everything.

Almost.

She sighed. She would open her heart to the young Englishwoman once more.

"All right," said Elsie softly, her voice trembling. "But Lara, you have to promise me you won't do anything…"


	9. Two Steps Forward

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, CHAPTER 9

Elsie loved her alone time.

Usually. But being alone of late was emotionally taxing.

As she continued down the street, she kept glancing over her shoulder, half expecting to see Jeff Klipman following her.

Far from waning, her anxiety had continued to simmer in the days following, to the point where her assailant had managed to infiltrate her dreams.

_You bastard..._

She still wondered as to the events of that night; she vividly recalled the battering and bruising, and had likely suffered a mild concussion - but she hadn't been molested. Having experienced the horrific sensation all too many times, she knew that much beyond doubt.

Her intense desire to understand what had happened tempered by the very real fear she'd done the unthinkable to escape, something so abhorrent that her subconscious had tucked the memory away for the sake of her own sanity.

And until she had answers, the events of that night would continue to haunt her.

She gave a soft sigh as her home loomed into view, her shoulders relaxing slightly. For now at least, she would have the welcome distraction that the doppelgänger provided.

The slightly dilapidated, weather-stained flat was altogether unremarkable and undoubtedly ignored by passers-by. Heck, even door-to-door solicitors usually gave her a pass. But it was her sanctuary.

And much to Elsie's relief, still standing.

It had been the doppelgänger's first day in the flat on her own, and the blonde had been nervously anticipating the worst.

_Heh...maybe it won't be so bad..._

The autumn leaves crunched crisply underfoot as Elsie strolled up to her front door, a bag of Panda Garden's freshly made Pad Thai dangling loosely from her fingers.

Swallowing with trepidation, she slipped hey key into its slot - after two fumbled attempts.

She slipped quietly into the landing. No smoke. No water damage. No overt signs of disaster. In fact everything looked apprehensively normal.

"Doppie?"

A faint sound of paper being flipped. "Hello."

Elsie drifted to the living room.

"Holy crap!"

Leaning up against the near wall was a large cardboard box along with two mattresses, the mass nearly dividing the small room in half: the bunk bed had been delivered.

On the couch she found the doppelgänger lying on her side, her head propped up by a balled fist pressing into her cheek. Splayed out on the futon before her was a book from Elsie's small library.

Elsie moved closer - she would at least start with the niceties. "So, um...watcha reading?"

Doppie flipped the cover up. The blonde craned her neck to read the print.

"Triumph of the Moon...I didn't know you were into Hutton?"

"I'm not 'into' anything," replied the doppelgänger neutrally.

_Okayyyy...so much for that..._

"Um...when did this get here?" asked Elsie, tapping the massive box with her foot.

Doppie did not look up. "A few hours ago."

Elsie stood there, disbelieving. "You had all this time…you didn't think about putting it together?"

"I told you, I don't require sleep."

"Oh, not this again," groaned the blonde. "Let's just set that aside for now, shall we?"

She raised her arm and shook the plastic bag teasingly.

Doppie's curiosity was piqued sufficiently to tear her gaze away from her book.

"What is that?"

"Dinner," replied the blonde, dropping the bag on the coffee table and tossing her coat and scarf atop the mattresses. Edging over to the couch, she motioned for the doppelgänger to move over. "Hope you like Pad Thai?"

Doppie raised an eyebrow but duly made room as Elsie flopped down next to her. Retrieving the bag, the blonde handed one of the cartons to her guest along with a set of wrapped chopsticks.

"I should warn you these are often tricky for a novice, but there are forks in the kitchen if you'd rather..."

But the doppelgänger had already slipped the wooden utensils between her thumb and finger in the traditional manner and was peering curiously into her carton.

"Hang on," voiced Elsie. "You've used chopsticks before - how can that be?"

"I've not," explained Doppie, pinching a healthy group of noodles between the wooden shafts. "But Lara has. I simply share her technical skills."

"Oh..."

Doppie deftly slipped her first sample of Asian noodles into her mouth.

And immediately froze.

Elsie shifted slightly. "Uh...you okay...?"

The doppelgänger blew out her cheeks, her golden-yellow eyes frowning at the blonde.

"Okay, I'm guessing you don't like -"

The doppelgänger leaned forward, opened her mouth and allowed the noodles to fall back into the carton.

"Blech."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Classy."

The doppelgänger plunked the carton onto the coffee table. "This is horrid."

The blonde sighed. _Okay, time for Plan B..._

She pushed off the futon and got to her feet.

"Grab a coat," she said, nodding to the closet. "I think it's time I took you out on the town..."

~oOo~

The King's Head was one of Elsie's favourite go-to places, the cozy and unpretentious pub being within easy walking distance. But more than that, it was where she had made many of her friendships since first arriving in Portland four years before. Consequently she held a special affection for its admittedly cramped confines.

Elsie perused the menu. As it happened, they'd made it just before the early evening rush of students from Saint Joseph's which had allowed Elsie to nab her favorite booth.

She looked across the table. "Do you mind if I order for us?"

The doppelgänger's eyes popped over the top of her menu. "Why?"

"Just go with me on this," said Elsie. "If it's not up your alley you can order whatever you like...deal?"

Doppie set her menu down. "Very well."

Just then an attractive, 40-something woman with shoulder length fiery hair approached their table.

"Elsie!" said the woman brightly, doing an almost imperceptible double take on first glimpsing the doppelgänger's golden-yellow eyes. "And who have we here?"

The blonde's feet shifted under the table. _Here goes..._

"Gwen, this is Doppie. Doppie, Gwen. She's from...England."

"Hello."

"Ah, that that explains it," returned Gwen, smiling warmly at the doppelgänger. "So, in town on business or pleasure?"

"Neither."

The server raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Elsie scrambled to retrieve the situation. "I...uh...she's looking for work is what she means..."

"Oh really? Well, as it happens we have an opening if ever you're interested. Anyway, 'nuff about that - what can I get you two?"

Elsie was relieved for the change in subject: she made a mental note to discuss a plausible cover story with the doppelgänger for future reference.

"Two small King's Combos," replied the blonde, smiling. "With double cheese, please."

"Got it," winked Gwen. "Drinks?"

"Oh right! Uh, root beer for me, and..."

She looked to the doppelgänger, only to be met by a blank stare.

_Well that helps..._

Elsie turned back to their server. "Make that two, please."

"Coming up," said Gwen. She turned to Doppie. "And welcome to Portland!"

With that the woman retreated to the bustle of the kitchen, leaving the two alone in their corner booth.

Elsie leaned forward. "Can you be just a _little_ more social? When someone asks business or pleasure you don't answer 'neither'!"

The doppelgänger turned her gaze on the blonde. "What would you have me say?"

"Just...one or the other!"

"My presence here is neither business-related nor pleasurable."

Elsie leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms - the doppelgänger's words had struck surprisingly hard. "Gee, thanks."

Doppie shrugged and turned her gaze to four newly-arrived students sliding into a nearby booth.

Elsie was silently steaming. She'd hadn't exactly expected gratitude, really. But this…

Several minutes of silence passed between the two, Elsie's anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Eventually her emotional lid popped off - she couldn't hold it in any longer. "So what is it about your being here that sucks so bad, might I ask?"

Golden-yellow eyes refocused on her.

"Tell me," insisted Elsie brusquely. "Because in case you haven't noticed it hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughs for me either."

"You're upset."

"No shit."

A slight tilt of the head. "Would it console you if I revised my statement to say I've enjoyed my time here?"

"Would it be true?"

"Would it matter?"

"Of course it'd matter!" blurted the blonde. "I'm not looking for platitudes!"

The two stared at each other in silence, Elsie rapping her fingers impatiently on the table.

_One step forward, one step back..._

"Why'd you come back, then?" asked the blonde brusquely. "If you dislike me so much?"

A rare blink from the doppelgänger.

"Is that what you believe?"

"You just said you're not happy here!"

"I haven't found what I'd come for," stated Doppie. "In fact you've yet to discuss it."

"Maybe that's because you went and disappeared for a week!"

But as much as it pained her, she knew the doppelgänger was at least partly right. She'd come in search of a purpose, a new dimension to her existence, and all she had to show for it thus far was a roof over her head - and a leaky one at that.

"I...you're right," admitted the blonde. "I'm sorry. I just...didn't think you were in any great rush..."

"Would you be content if your life were without meaning?"

Elsie bit her lip. "Point taken."

The doppelgänger was staring at her with that same inscrutable expression. They might have just discussed what to include on the weekly grocery list.

It was time to bite the bullet.

"Do...do you have any dreams, at all?" ventured the blonde hesitantly. "Aspirations? Goals?"

The doppelgänger slowly looked to the young students chatting happily in the adjoining booth.

"I came across countless such people during my travels," she mused. "Weak, defenceless, pathetic creatures. I could snap their necks with little effort."

Elsie shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like where this conversation was heading - and hoping to God the pub's overlapping chatter was obscuring the doppelgänger's words.

"But...you won't, right?"

Doppie slowly shook her head.

"I told you, remember. I've no desire to kill anyone. I envy them, in fact," she voiced wistfully.

"Oh..."

The doppelgänger turned her gaze back to the blonde. "Their lives have substance, such as it is," she explained. "And as insignificant and piddling as they may be, I am infinitely less."

"That's not true!" countered Elsie.

"But it is," said Doppie serenely. "The sole purpose of my existence was to take a life and then immediately end my own. Such is the measure of my worth to the Universe."

Elsie felt a pang in her stomach.

"You have worth, Doppie...it might not be obvious to you right now but everyone has value, you included. And I'm not going to stop until I convince you of that…I think you'll find I can be infuriatingly persistent."

Golden-yellow eyes bored into hers.

"Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

A pause.

"Care."

Elsie smiled. "Well d'uh...friends care for each other, Doppie. It's what makes us human. Welcome to Earth."

The doppelgänger became very still.

"You proceed on a false assumption," she said softly.

"How so?"

A slow shake of the head. "I cannot be your friend."

Elsie's shoulders sagged. "Why not?"

Silence.

"Doppie?"

"Because I've nothing to offer in return," replied the doppelgänger.

Elsie chuckled. "Ha! That's cute. Friendship isn't something you barter and trade, Doppie...it just is. And you're wrong if you think you have nothing to offer, believe me."

Elsie folded her arms across the table and took a deep breath.

"You know, not too long ago I had a conversation with someone to whom you bear a striking resemblance, and she was also of the opinion she was...well...'shite', I believe was the word she used. Thing is, she was dead wrong about that, Doppie, as wrong as anyone could ever be about anything."

She slid a hand out to gently squeeze the doppelgänger's.

"She's my friend...and so are you. It's a _fait accompli_ , so you might as well get used to it."

Doppie's mouth opened slightly. For a moment the blonde thought she was about to speak, but instead the doppelgänger remained frozen in a state of apparent stasis.

Elsie teasingly nudged the doppelgänger's foot under the table. "So...hope you don't hate me anymore?"

"I've never hated you," replied the doppelgänger, frowning. "I've never hated anyone."

A hesitation. "That is...except for one..."

"No one I know, I hope?"

Golden-yellow eyes flashed balefully. "I should hope not."

"Well, that's a relief," smiled the blonde. "Pity the fool who has you as an enemy, right?"

"I should call that living precariously," agreed the doppelgänger.

"And probably not for long if - oh lookie, food!"

Their server had reappeared and produced two small pizzas festooned with a mosaic of garnishes which she deftly slid before her charges, followed quickly by two large mugs of foam-topped root beer.

"Would you like any ketchup with that?" asked Gwen, nudging Elsie affectionately.

"Oh, hush."

"Check back on you in a bit," said the redhead with a wink.

Elsie grabbed the pizza slicer to cut along the seams faintly visible in the cheese.

"It's mostly standard pub fare here, but they do make one of the best pizzas around. Prepare to have your socks rocked..."

Holding the first slice aloft in one hand, she handed the circular cutter to the doppelgänger.

"We don't use utensils?" asked Doppie.

"You can if you like," replied Elsie. "But it's perfectly acceptable to eat pizza the Viking way."

A raised eyebrow. "You're postulating that Vikings ate pizza?"

"Well, probably not," admitted the blonde. "I didn't mean it literally, I just meant - just use your hands, Doppie..."

Elsie watched with anticipation as the doppelgänger tentatively bit down on a corner. Slowly pulling back, a bridge of melted cheese stretched out from her mouth to the pizza slice in her hand.

She paused for a moment, eyeing the sagging cheese, then pulled back further. The stringy topping stretched into even thinner strands but refused to abandon its grip.

She'd reached as far back as her outstretched arm would allow.

The doppelgänger's golden-yellow eyes fixed upon Elsie.

"Mmf?"

"You're adorable," said the blonde, grinning. "You're gonna have to figure this out..."

"Mmmff!"

"C'mon, you can do this," said Elsie encouragingly. "Just try and not let the cheese touch the table..."

The doppelgänger grunted softly in protest. But seeing no other viable option, she began to move her head forward an inch or two at a time, awkwardly gobbling up the sagging cheese bridge as she went. Having finally worked her way back to the pizza slice in her hand, she then pulled back abruptly.

The cheese stretched out to willowy strands before finally giving up the ghost. The gooey band of topping duly snapped, flying back to whip the doppelgänger across the face.

Doppie gave a short yelp of surprise.

Elsie very nearly managed to suppress the resulting burst of laughter - but a tiny squeak eluded her.

She quickly clamped both hands over her mouth just as Doppie shot her an ominous look. But Elsie's quivering shoulders were threatening to give the game away.

_Don't laugh...whatever you do, don't laugh..._

"You did this on purpose," accused the doppelgänger in a low voice.

Elsie shook her head emphatically, being careful to keep her mouth covered; any attempt at vocalizing now would be laced with uncontrollable giggles - which she knew could prove costly, if not dangerous.

"You selected this dish on my behalf, did you not?"

_Oh crap..._

Elsie gave a very slow, barely perceptible nod, her pale eyebrows arching up in apprehension.

"Do you...find this amusing?"

A vigorous shake of the head, so energetic that at its conclusion much of her face was cloaked behind an unkempt mass of blonde hair.

The doppelgänger's eyes narrowed.

But this time, it was in the subtlest of smiles.


	10. Slowly But Surely

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 10

Elsie swore under her breath. Try as she might, she couldn't maintain a consistent tension on the bandage around her wrist; whenever she'd let go of the tape to circle around beneath there followed an inevitable reduction in tautness, forcing her to start the process all over again.

It was decidedly not a one-handed job.

A week after the injury and her wrist still hadn't improved. Time was running out.

There was no longer any point in denying it -- there was physical damage. Exactly how bad, she couldn't be sure. But with her New York job barely two weeks away, she had to get the swelling down at the very least.

Her lack of a dedicated compression bandage had compelled her to improvise; using a roll of generic elastic gauze, she hoped applying enough tension would make an adequate substitute. But what she'd imagined would be a simple task was proving to be frustratingly difficult.

She needed more hands -- even if they happened to be the same ones that had caused the injury in the first place.

"Doppie, can you come in here please?"

A few moments later and the doppelgänger appeared in the bathroom's doorway; as usual, she'd moved through the flat without the slightest hint of a footfall.

Elsie held out her arm, the bandage dangling loosely. "Can you help me with this? I can't keep it tight..."

Doppie's gaze shifted to the blonde's wrist.

"Has it not mended?"

"Not really," replied Elsie. "But I really need to get the swelling down."

The doppelgänger stepped into the bathroom. "Should you not seek treatment? You do have hospitals in this city, yes?"

"Heh...yeah, we do," returned the blonde. "I'm really not feeling the whole hospital thing, though."

A curious look. "Why not?"

"I just...don't, is all. Look, I just need you to wrap this bandage around and keep it snug, okay? I can't keep enough tension on it by myself."

The doppelgänger moved closer and proceeded to unwrap the clumsily-applied bandage from Elsie's wrist.

"This does not look good," said Doppie, eyeing the reddened skin.

"Could've been worse," shot back Elsie without thinking.

"Indeed," agreed the doppelgänger.

Elsie drew in a sharp breath. "Shit...Doppie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rub your nose in it..."

"No need to apologize," returned the doppelgänger matter-of-factly as she began re-applying the dressing. "In my state, it’s entirely possible I might've continued until I'd seen bone."

Elsie felt a slight chill at the base of her back.

"That...would've sucked..."

Elsie swallowed nervously. The same hand that had nearly snapped her wrist was now calmly wrapping it in gauze: she’d hardly needed the reminder.

Doppie maintained a constant tension on the bandage with one hand while overlapping each turn in half-inch increments. After several revolutions she paused in her ministrations.

"You were correct in what you said," said the doppelgänger, her gaze focused on the swollen wrist.

"See? Told you," returned the blonde. "Um...about what, exactly?"

"About my regretting this," replied the redhead, her middle finger slowly drawing an invisible line along Elsie's radius.

"Well...you do have a bit of a temper..."

A slow shake of the head. "It's more than that."

Doppie's finger began tracing slow circles against the reddened skin.

The blonde shivered slightly under the unexpectedly gentle touch. "Well...it's water under the bridge now, Doppie..."

“I _am_ dangerous,” emphasized the doppelgänger. “My ‘major malfunction’, as you put it…Lara does not suspect the extent of its sway over me, otherwise I expect she’d never have burdened you.”

"You're not a burden --"

Doppie cut short Elsie’s attempt at comfort. "As I understand it, Lara’s physical abilities were mirrored in me, only significantly augmented...no doubt with an eye to our eventual confrontation."

"I...noticed."

Doppie's gaze shifted up and locked with hers.

"But what you may not know is that in doing so her emotional attributes were also...enhanced. But with significantly less control..."

Elsie smiled consolingly. "You may find this surprising but I noticed that, too..."

"From what I was able to gather, this was unintended," continued the doppelgänger. "I believe it was the reason I was commanded to end my own life immediately after taking hers...to mitigate the design flaws, as it were."

Elsie huffed. "Doppie, you're not a robot!"

A wisp of a smile. "Though I wonder sometimes if perhaps I should be..."

"Hey, don't even think that --"

"You must understand the risks," interjected the doppelgänger seriously, her golden-yellow eyes gazing intently into the blonde's. "I do not share Lara's proficiency at keeping her emotions in check. There is a danger in keeping me here."

"Oh, for -- screw the risk!" countered Elsie. "There's risk in everything, Doppie. There's a risk in eating fish, there's a risk in rock climbing, there's a risk in just crossing the street -- heck, I nearly got run over just a few days ago! My point is, risk is everywhere. I'm not going to hide from it. And neither are you."

The doppelgänger arched an eyebrow. "You seem....remarkably unperturbed."

Elsie chuckled softly. "Yeah, well...maybe I've just gotten a bit accustomed to risking life and limb when hanging around stunning brunettes."

Doppie craned her neck to gaze in the mirror overlooking the vanity; with her free hand she stroked a lock of chestnut ponytail that had drifted over her shoulder. 

"Speaking of which, I should very much like to revert to my own colour..."

"Didn't think about that in your diabolical plot, did you?"

"It was not of immediate importance."

Elsie mulled over her in-house possibilities. "Well, I don't have any dedicated colour remover, but I do have bath salts...I seem to recall something about their having similar properties. But you'll probably have to soak for a good while for that to work..."

She detected a tiny shift in the doppelgänger's demeanour -- the subtlest hint of enthusiasm as she resumed wrapping the blonde's wrist.

"I don't mind," said Doppie with false disinterest.

Elsie grinned slyly. "Uh huh..."

 

~oOo~

 

"How can you drink that sludge?" asked Rollie as Elsie set the coffee tray atop the supply cabinet.

"It's not 'sludge' okay?" shot back the blonde as she hung her coat and scarf in the wardrobe. 

Rollie dropped the ream of paper into the photocopier tray and shook his head. "Liquid candy..."

"Philistine!"

At that same moment Elsie caught side of the imposing form of the Gallery owner storming down the hall towards them -- she'd never seen him so visibly annoyed.

Her jaw dropped.

"Er...good morning, Nathan?"

"This is bloody unprofessional," said Nathan Fletcher in an unusually gruff voice. "Three days without so much as a word -- Mr. Kaminski, may I trouble you to stop by Mr. Klipman's apartment on your way home after your day's work and advise him of his conditions of employment? Otherwise it appears we may need to procure another photographer."

Rollie nodded. "Absolutely sir, not a problem."

Fletcher strode off, grumbling something about bad references. Rollie leaned close.

"I assumed he was off sick or something," he whispered to Elsie. "He didn't call in since Monday?"

"I...haven't heard," replied the blonde anxiously. "Uh...catch you later, Rollie..."

"Yeah, sure..."

Elsie grasped the coffee tray and scurried down the hall.

Slipping into Gellis' office she slid the coffees onto the desk, profoundly relieved to have escaped the uncomfortable situation brewing in the hall. 

The raven-haired woman looked up from her laptop and smiled. “Morning, El.”

Elsie smiled back as she popped the French vanilla from the tray. "Hey, how's the little one?"

Gellis struck a few keys and turned to the blonde, gratefully accepting the professed coffee. "Oh, she's fine. You know kids -- walking germ magnets. Thanks for covering for me yesterday, by the way."

"No worries," returned Elsie. "Besides I owed you big time for Monday...whatever happened to the folio, by the way? Did he buy?"

Gellis’ features turned sheepish. "Oh, yeah..."

"Uh-oh...how much?"

The raven-haired woman hesitated, her expression pained. "Forty-nine thousand..."

"Ouch..."

"Yeah."

"Well, if it's any consolation you got a better price than I could’ve," consoled the blonde, flopping down in one of the guest chairs. "I'd probably have ended up selling it at a loss..."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not a seller, Gel!" exclaimed the Elsie plaintively. "Do you have any idea how edgy I was handling a piece like that? I've never sold anything even remotely close to that price!"

Gellis laughed. "It's the same as buying, El, I don't know why you're freaking out. Heck, you've procured stuff that cost that much and more for the Gallery, what's the big deal?"

"Because when you're buying you can just walk away," countered the blonde. "Selling is where all the pressure lies."

"Come on, don't sell yourself short," said Gellis consolingly. "It'll get easier, don't you worry."

Elsie tested a small sip of coffee and grimaced -- too hot.

"Not for me it won't," she maintained. "I feel like such a con artist when I sell something, Gel, I don't think I'll ever get used to that. I was a total neophyte compared to that dude...he was a former Harvard Dean, for God's sake!"

"How is that conning someone?" countered the raven-haired woman. "You're just trying to get fair value, is all. It’s not like you were trying to sell him a fake now, is it?"

Elsie sighed. "Well...no, of course not, but..."

Gellis idly traced a finger along the coffee cup's lid.

"Who was that girl, by the way?"

Elsie blinked. "Uh...girl?"

Gellis' dark eyes became impish. "Yeah, you know...a member of the female gender."

"Oh, her...yeah, she's...a friend."

The raven-haired woman turned contemplative. "Hmm...have I ever met her before?"

Elsie shook her head -- perhaps a little too vigorously, she thought in retrospect. "No, I wouldn't think so."

"She seems familiar, though," continued Gellis pensively. "I could swear I've seen her before."

Elsie felt her anxiety slowly rising. "She...probably just reminds you of someone..."

"I dunno," mused the raven-haired woman. "That's not the kind of face one tends to forget...has she ever been on television?"

"Um, not that I'm aware..."

"Does she vlog?"

"I don't think so."

_God, let go of it, Gel..._

"She from around here?"

_Dammit..._

"Not really, no..."

Gellis tilted her head. "Well, you're no fun. Why so cryptic...?"

A slow realization crossed the raven-haired woman's features. 

_Oh, shit..._

"Hang on," said Gellis, her mouth forming into a mischievous smile, "A friend, eh? Could it be that our little Elsie has finally found Miss Right?"

"Oh, for -- no!!"

The blonde jumped from the chair and bolted for the door.

"Hey, I was just joking -- El, wait!!"

But Elsie was already halfway down the hall.

 

~oOo~

 

"So...see anything you like?"

The doppelgänger briefly scanned the sea of clothing racks. 

"They're garments," she said listlessly.

"Well, d'uh," countered Elsie. "That's kinda why we came here, remember? I told you it was time you got your own wardrobe...so c'mon, have a look around, pick something."

With her gaze locked on Elsie the doppelgänger’s arm shot out and pulled a canary yellow dress from the nearest rack. She handed it to the blonde without so much as a cursory glance.

"Oh, come on!" said Elsie. "That's a maternity dress, you're not even trying!"

"How does this help me?" returned the doppelgänger. "Explain me how the colour of my garb makes a difference."

Elsie slipped the dress back to its rack. "It's part of you forging your own identity. What we choose to wear has a certain role to play in that regard, trivial as it might seem."

Doppie turned to gaze across the myriad clothing racks peppering the department store. "But it seems so unimportant. They all fulfill the same purpose, they merely look different."

"Well, from a survival aspect, sure," admitted the blonde. "But there's more to life than simply surviving, Doppie..."

She grabbed the redhead's arm and tugged her over to a nearby rack of trendy tops. "Okay, now these seem more your style...what’s your favourite colour?"

Doppie looked dubious. "Why would one be superior to another?"

Elsie took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Just humour me...don't you have any preferences at all?"

"Since you press me, I would prefer earthy tones," conceded the doppelgänger. "Clothing that would blend in to the environment and enhance camouflage --"

"Oh, for -- we're not shopping for an upcoming commando operation, all right?"

She snatched an ochre Camudo blouse from the rack. 

"Here," she said, thrusting the garment at the doppelgänger. "Try this on."

Doppie arched an eyebrow. "I thought this was to establish _my_ identity?"

"Yeah, well, you're kinda forcing me to jumpstart the process," argued the blonde. "Just try it on, okay? We'll go from there."

The redhead contemplated the garment.

Her fingers drifted down to her hemline. And began pulling it up.

"Not here!!" blurted Elsie, hastily tugging the doppelgänger's hands back down. "Cripes, Doppie..."

She pulled the redhead to one of the nearby change rooms. 

"Not exactly Victorian, are you?"

She waited near the alcove until Doppie emerged clad in the ochre top. The garment was attractive, trendy, and yet utterly unpretentious. She could imagine it as part of Lara's own wardrobe, which was one reason she'd selected it -- it would've suited the archaeologist.

But sadly, it suited Doppie less so: though their physiques were identical, the doppelgänger's coppery-red hair wasn't really gelling with the garment's ochre hue.

Elsie herded the doppelgänger back into the alcove. "Take it off and wait here. I'll be back in just a bit."

A brief rummage through the nearest clothing racks revealed a promising candidate -- a light turquoise tank top that incorporated a pair of lovely brass loops into the shoulder straps.

_Ah, now this..._

She made her way back to the change room and tossed the garment over the partition. "Try that."

Elsie gaped as the redhead emerged moments later. "That is...wow..."

The doppelgänger turned to look at her reflection in a nearby mirror, twisting her body to inspect various angles. "I suppose it does have a certain aesthetic quality."

Elsie bit her lip. The top was thin and form-fitting, underlining every one of the doppelgängers ridiculously flawless curves. There was no denying it -- Doppie was hot.

But then how could she not be? She was Lara's mirror, after all.

"Okay, that one's a keeper," said Elsie, swallowing. "Take it off and put the first one back on the hanger...I'll be right back..."

She explored the myriad racks, collecting a half dozen items she thought would suit the redhead. One, a particularly lovely emerald green tank top caused her to hesitate -- it sported a daring scoop neckline that might conceivably make Madonna blush.

_Okay, is this for me or for her...?_

Elsie felt a twinge of guilt. But then, she had rolled her pennies and scrounged her last few remaining dollars in order to procure the doppelgänger her own wardrobe, hadn't she? 

She could allow herself this one little indulgence.

_Yes, dammit..._

She added it to the pile of garments draped over her arm. She shifted to the side as she heard someone approach from behind, but no one passed her. Was there not enough room?

She turned to the patron. "I'm sor--ACK!!"

Doppie stood before her: she'd duly removed the turquoise top but had alarmingly neglected to replace it. 

Elsie threw her accumulated bundle at the doppelgänger who caught it out of reflex, the collection at least managing to partly conceal the redhead's state of undress. But the blonde wasn't taking any chances.

"Back! Back!" she uttered urgently as she frantically ushered the doppelgänger back to the change room. "Cripes, Doppie! Did anyone see you??"

"I neglected to take a count," said the doppelgänger dryly.

As Elsie closed the dressing room door she caught sight of a pair of teenaged girls giggling in their direction, smartphones in hand.

_Great...I guess the surveillance camera dudes will have a field day, too...hope this doesn't go viral..._

Elsie sighed and made a mental note to have a talk with the doppelgänger on the tenets of modesty.

 

~oOo~

 

"That was offside! Oh, come on!"

Elsie stomped her foot in frustration as the play continued without stoppage. Doppie, for her part, had reclined on the far side of the futon and had long since given up watching the hockey game and was instead engrossed in Elsie's copy of _Blood and Mistletoe._

It was only when a scrap broke out on the ice that the doppelgänger's interest suddenly returned to the television.

The two enforcers pounded each other violently, the Bruins' player eventually catching his opposite number with a solid right to the jaw which sent the Flyer crumpling to the ice. The Boston fans in the stands erupted in approval.

"Why'd he just stop?" asked Doppie as the Bruin skated off towards the penalty box.

Elsie glanced at the redhead. "Huh?"

"His opponent is unconscious," remarked the doppelgänger. "He could've attacked him with impunity."

"You're kidding, right?"

"And he's wearing ice skates," continued Doppie. "He could've simply decap--"

"Thank you, Miss Caligula!" interjected Elsie sharply, snatching up the remote and hitting the system shutdown button. "Wow...into blood sports, much?"

The doppelgänger regarded her with that frustratingly cryptic expression.

The blonde chuckled. "Well, I guess I'll have to teach you the intricacies of organized sport...but it's getting late anyway. _Some_ of us have to work. Let's hit the sack, shall we?"

Doppie scanned the living room.

"I mean go to bed," clarified the blonde as she pushed off the couch.

"Oh..."

To her credit, the doppelgänger had acceded to the blonde's request and assembled the bunk bed earlier that day: now would come its first real test.

As thanks Elsie had given the redhead the top bunk -- not that the redhead expressed anything remotely approaching thanks for the gesture, of course. Getting the doppelgänger to even agree to sleep had required a careful mix of supplication and negotiating. And in the end the top bunk had sealed the deal. Doppie still wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but at least she’d climbed into her bunk without complaint.

Elsie closed her book and flicked off the mushroom lamp, pressing her cheek to the pillow. In the bunk above, all had been silent for some time -- it was hard to believe there was even someone in the room with her.

"Doppie?"

"Yes?"

"Just checking..."

Elsie relaxed slightly; it was strangely comforting to have the doppelgänger close at hand, all things considered. Perhaps on this night her slumber wouldn't be quite so jittery.

She lay in silence, contemplating the day’s events when a thought drifted to her.

"Um...Doppie?"

"I was under the impression you desired me to sleep?"

"I do," confirmed the blonde. "Sorry, it's just that...you mentioned you have Lara's physical abilities...her skills and such."

"Correct."

"Does that…extend to other things?"

Silence.

"What I mean is...you can obviously read, so...I was wondering..."

"I do share her academic knowledge," said the doppelgänger.

"I see..."

Outside the October winds picked up, the old flat protesting with creaks and groans. Yes, she was doubly grateful for the doppelgänger's presence.

"So...could you go out and archaeologize?"

"Yes," returned the doppelgänger dryly. "If I so desired, I could...'archaeologize'."

"Would you want to?" asked the blonde. "I mean, having the knowledge is one thing...but does it interest you at all?"

"While I share Lara's academic abilities," explained the redhead, "I do not possess the academic credentials. I would be a charlatan."

"But...does it _interest_ you?"

There was a hesitation before Doppie responded.

"Yes," she finally said softly. "But my involvement in the field would be fraught with risk. For Lara, certainly."

Elsie swallowed her bottom lip. She was right, of course.

Lara was a known quantity in archaeological circles; heck, even Gellis had almost recognized her. Were the archaeologist's twin to take up the same profession as her template it would only be a matter of time before someone put two and two together and realized there were two Lara Crofts in the world.

And then what? Lara was an only child -- no manner of explanation could adequately account for the doppelgänger's existence.

Twins separated at birth? Might work for a Hollywood production but hardly in real life.

"I see your point," conceded the blonde. "That kinda sucks for you, tough..."

Silence.

"Doppie?"

"I'm still here."

"We'll figure something out...I promise."

Elsie pressed her head deeper into her pillow and smiled.

"And Doppie...?”  
“Yes…”

“I'm really glad you came back."

Elsie had almost drifted off when ear ears picked up an almost imperceptible whisper, so faint that she wondered if she'd imagined it.

"As am I..."


	11. Damn the Torpedoes

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 11

"They've declared him a missing person, El," said Gellis. "You have to tell Nathan, at least!"

Elsie tightened her grip on her cell. "And then what? He'll go to the police! I don't even remember half of what happened that night, what if I -"

"For fuck's sake, he's on the run!" shot back the raven-haired woman. "Wake up, girl! Look, if you don't tell them I will!"

Elsie jammed her sole against the concrete and came to an abrupt halt. "Don't you dare!" she said, her stomach twisting. "You promised. You PROMISED, Gel!"

She could almost feel the older woman's sigh through the phone.

"I know…but Elsie, you have to think of the big picture, if he's out there, who knows who else he could be -"

"Don't you think that doesn't go through my mind every fucking day?!" exclaimed the blonde hoarsely. "And if he's not, then I'm a murderer. How's that for door number two?"

"Will you get off it? Blast it, El, you literally get sick to your stomach when you think you've hurt someone's feelings. Killed him? Kicked him in the nuts, more like!"

"I can't do it," said Elsie, her emotions percolating. "I'm sorry...I just can't..."

There followed several seconds of silence before Gellis spoke again.

"I don't know how long I can sit on this, El," she finally said. "I know I promised, and it would absolutely kill me to lose you over this...you're the kid sister I never had, dammit."

The alley stretching out before Elsie became clouded. "Please don't..."

"Let me ask you this...could you live with yourself if you ever found out he assaulted someone else?"

Elsie's lower lip trembled. "I..."

She swallowed the unspoken words. _I've been living with that same question for years, Gel..._

The tears began flowing.

"I'm sorry -"

Elsie thumbed her cell and dropped it into her satchel.

Clumsily palming her cheeks, the blonde wondered if she would still have a friend in the Gallery manager come the following morning.

Gellis' profession had been no exaggeration: genetics aside, the two were sisters in every meaningful sense. If losing that would kill the raven-haired woman, it would destroy Elsie.

_Please stay with me, Gel..._

She took a deep breath as her feet started moving anew.

She made her way further down the alley, her surging anxiety fighting her anguish for dominance: she hadn't been down the dilapidated, red-bricked confines since that fateful Friday.

Not that she'd needed to - the route was a significant detour from her normal walk home. But she needed answers. On her terms, rather than those of law enforcement's.

She spied the old fire escape near which the red Corvette had been parked.

Elsie allowed herself the slightest sigh of relief. It was gone.

Of course, the car's absence didn't mean Klipman had used it to flee, and as such did nothing to exonerate her. Given she'd conveniently smashed in the drivers' side window, she'd made it that much easier for any member of the criminal element to seize the valuable prize.

She was almost directly beneath the fire escape when she head a crunch from underfoot.

Broken glass: the final nail in the coffin of the dream theory.

The blonde continued down the alleyway, the prevailing daylight and distant sounds of urban life doing nothing to alleviate her anxiety. Forcing herself to keep going, a bead of sweat defied the nip in the air to trickle lazily down her brow.

Up ahead loomed the familiar chainlink fence – of course, its gate was now conveniently open.

She scanned the nearby clutter for any sign, any clue that might shed some desperately needed light. But apart from the urban debris typical of back alleys, nothing stood out. Then again, she had no idea what to look for.

Elsie knew it had been a long shot from the beginning. She was no further ahead.

She was about to step through the open gate when a darkened section of concrete along the far wall drew her eye.

Elsie hesitated. There were stains everywhere: the detritus of urban life was scattered in abundance around her.

It could be nothing. Most likely was. Old motor oil. A disused can of paint thrown from a nearby window.

So why then were the hairs bristling on the back of her neck?

She slowly crept closer, stepping around a toppled garbage can to get a better vantage.

Crouching down on her haunches, she examined the substance - from directly above it no longer appeared black but rather a darkened crimson.

Swallowing anxiously, she snatched a plastic spoon from the scattered debris. She slowly drew its edge along the concrete, watching as the substance flaked and crackled.

Her breathing grew shallow. There was no doubt what she was looking at.

But there was so _much_ of it...it made no sense, unless...

She scampered to her feet and drew back, horrified. She doubted a mauling by Grizzly bear could have produced such copious amounts of blood.

This was not a scene where someone had been stabbed and subsequently bled to death - it was a scene where someone had been ripped into pieces.

The blonde realized straight away she couldn't have been responsible for such an act; the perpetrator had been someone capable of savage, uncontrolled brutality.

One the one hand, she'd absolved herself of a capital crime.

On the other, she knew someone in possession of both the physical and psychological capacity to do the unthinkable...

She'd been created to kill Lara Croft.

~oOo~

Elsie had kept unusually quiet since arriving home that afternoon, still straining as she was to come to terms with unsettling thoughts. The doppelgänger, for her part, seemed content in perpetuating the silence – she was currently nestled in the patched armchair in the corner of Elsie's study with another book splayed across her lap.

The blonde was wrestling with conflicting emotions coursing through her. If what she suspected was true, the doppelgänger had likely saved her life. But, she'd done so through an act of almost unimaginable savagery. The two possibilities were proving exceedingly difficult to reconcile.

Her growing uneasiness underlined one fact: this was not something she could conceivably sweep under the rug. She had to pose the question, lest she forever view the doppelgänger with trepidation.

"We need to talk."

"If you like," returned the redhead without looking up from her book.

Elsie stood in the middle of the small study.

"I have to ask you something...and Doppie, I need an honest answer."

The redhead flipped a page.

Elsie frowned. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," said Doppie, her eyes never deviating from the text.

_Fine, then..._

The blonde drew a deep breath. "Where were you last Friday night?"

There was no reaction from the doppelgänger.

"Elsewhere."

"Well, d'uh," said Elsie, keeping most of her annoyance from creeping into her voice. "Where, exactly?"

Doppie's gaze remained fixed on the printed page before her - perhaps even too fixed: the golden-yellow eyes had ceased their back and forth scanning.

"What does it matter?"

"It just does, okay?" returned the blonde. "Will you look at me, please?"

The redhead ignored the request.

"You would not wish to know."

_Fuck..._

There it was; not an admission, certainly, but the doppelgänger's evasiveness could only mean one thing.

"You're right...but I need to know...for both our sakes."

The redhead was silent, her mouth stretched in a thin line.

Elsie continued to press. "I already know the answer, Doppie. But I need to hear it from you. And I'm not leaving this room until -"

The doppelgänger snapped the book shut forcefully, making the already nervous blonde jump.

"Would you have preferred I do nothing?" asked the redhead, her golden-yellow eyes now fixed directly on Elsie. "I waited as long as I dared in the hopes you would extricate yourself. Almost too long, as it turned out."

"I...I didn't say that," replied Elsie. "But...couldn't you have just..."

"Exercised restraint?" finished the doppelgänger, sneering. "I told you, remember?"

"Dammit, Doppie," lamented the blonde, "You can't go around killing people!"

"Lara does."

Elsie huffed. "Will you just - why do you keep invoking her?"

"Because you hold me to a different standard."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" posed the redhead. "Lara's killed considerably more than I have, yet you absolve her without question."

Elsie bristled inwardly but kept her voice on an even keel. "Okay, what Lara does is for self-preservation."

"While I preserved another," countered the doppelgänger. "According to your human values, which action would you consider the nobler?"

Elsie bit her lip. There could be no adequate riposte - she'd been painted into a moral corner.

"Doppie, please understand...I'm not saying I'm not grateful, believe me...it's just the method you chose..."

"Which is why I desired you remain in ignorance," said the redhead. "For despite your professions of friendship, you still view me with apprehension."

The blonde's mouth opened slightly.

Grey and golden eyes searched each other. Doppie had scored an emotional bullseye.

From the first Elsie had worked to earn the redhead's trust, but she'd omitted to place an equal investment in the doppelgänger. She'd had her reasons, of course - perhaps some were even justified - but if their relationship were to become anything meaningful, the one way street would have to be widened.

There could be no more second guessing. No more doubts.

_Damn the torpedoes...I'm in this for the long haul._

Elsie's shoulders drooped. "Not anymore."

She moved closer and slid into the patched armchair, the doppelgänger quickly shifting over as far as the armrest would allow. There was an discernable discomfort in the redhead's body language - Elsie had blatantly invaded her personal space with all the subtlety of George S. Patton.

The blonde had witnessed the same reaction before, the first time she'd slipped into her sleeping bag with Lara two years previously. And like the archaeologist, Doppie would simply have to get used to it.

To further emphasize the point, Elsie grabbed the doppelgänger's hand and entwined her fingers. The latter's shoulders rose ever so slightly in response.

"So...I guess you were looking out for me?" asked the blonde. "Does that make you… my guardian angel?"

"Hardly," replied the redhead, her gaze locked on pair of knee pads propped up against the far wall. "I'm no angel, I can assure you."

Elsie smiled and squeezed her fingers. "Well...guardian succubus, then..."

Doppie arched an eyebrow. "That would be...slightly more accurate."

The blonde lightly nudged the doppelgänger's shoulder.

"Well then…feel like pancakes?"

The corners of the doppelgänger's mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"If you like."

~oOo~

Saturday had at last arrived. And with it, so had Elsie's car - she was free at last to expand her movements beyond the city core without resorting to public transit.

Volunteering at the shelter never failed to sap her emotionally, and this occasion was no exception. She knew better than most the horrors faced by the young women who sought temporary refuge within.

Elsie would console, nurture and encourage, fiercely determined they not suffer the same debilitating hopelessness she'd herself experienced. But aiding others to confront their demons invariably resurrected her own.

It was in that emotionally raw state that the doppelgänger sprung her surprise.

"A woman came by earlier, by the way."

In truth, Elsie was in not in a mood for chatting; but being one of the very few times Doppie had deigned to initiate conversation she thought it best to encourage the redhead's rare overture.

She dropped a golden potato in the stewpot and began peeling another. "One of those, huh...what was she selling?"

"Nothing, I gathered," replied Doppie from the breakfast nook. "I believe she's a neighbor of yours."

Elsie's hands froze in mid peel; her reflection in the kitchen window displayed a face etched with apprehension.

"What makes you say that?"

"Apparently she took notice of your old bed frame in the back alley," explained the redhead. "She seemed to be under the impression I was from Texas, oddly."

The blonde felt a wave of light-headedness building. "Don't tell me...was she short, squat, with grey hair?"

"She was," confirmed Doppie.

"What...what did she want?"

"She asked if I was residing here."

Elsie closed her eyes and swallowed. "And...?"

The sound of a page turning. The redhead was clueless.

"I told her I was."

The knife slipped from Elsie's hand and clattered into the sink.

_No..._

She dropped the half-peeled potato and gripped the edge of the counter to keep from swaying. "Doppie...do you realize what you've done?"

She could feel the doppelgänger's gaze upon her. "Obviously not."

"That was Mrs. Webb," said Elsie heavily. "My landlord."

"I see."

"No...you don't."

Her emotional exhaustion combined with a fresh tsunami of dread to overwhelm the blonde. There was no longer any choice: she would have to leave the flat.

Her home.

She bolted from the kitchen and ran to the bedroom. She fell on the bottom bunk and began sobbing into the pillow.

She knew it had been a calculated risk not to declare her guest, but then, she'd assumed she'd be sheltering someone for a few weeks at most. But the doppelgänger's plight had changed everything.

And now the time had come to pay the piper.

Her financial life had stretched to its limit - and snapped.

Gellis had been right.

She could feel the edge of the mattress depress slightly.

Elsie raised her head from the pillow. The doppelgänger was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring straight ahead.

"I am sorry," said the redhead softly.

The blonde wiped her eyes.

"It's not your fault," said Elsie despondently, sniffing. "I should've warned you..."

"Of your landlord?"

The blonde pushed herself into a sitting position and nodded. "My tenancy here is for a single occupant...but now she probably thinks you've been living here all year. She thinks you're Lara - or Laura, in this case - there won't be any reasoning with her now. She's a spinster, Doppie, always looking for excuses to increase her tenant's rent. I guess…I've been lucky so far…"

"Will she penalize you?"

"Undoubtedly," replied Elsie. "I don't think she can increase my rent retroactively, she'd have to prove you've been living here all this time...but even so it doesn't matter."

"Why?"

Elsie tented her hands against her lips, resisting a fresh surge of anguish. "Because...I just can't afford a rent increase, Doppie. I'm not exactly rich, as you can see…so I have no choice...I'm going to have to move..."

The emotional river overflowed its banks once more. Elsie flopped down into the pillow, her shoulders shaking in an attempt to contain the sobbing.

The dip in the mattress shifted closer.

"I will help."

Elsie shook her head into the pillow.

"Told you...no stealing..."

"I will seek gainful employment," explained the doppelgänger. "As I recall, your friend at the King's Head offered me a position should I so desire."

Elsie craned her neck to look at her guest. "W-what?"

"Would the additional revenue not aid in paying off your rent increase?"

Elsie wiped her nose across her sleeve.

"I...yes, but..."

The blonde drew up to face the doppelgänger, ignoring the wetness streaming down her cheeks.

"Doppie...are you absolutely sure about this? Do you think you're ready?"

A raised eyebrow. "Serving food and drink to pub patrons is well within my capabilities, I assure you."

"I know, but...it's not your capabilities that worry me…"

"I won't kill paying customers," clarified the redhead. "It would reduce the gratuity."

Elsie's jaw dropped.

_Was that a...a joke?_

"You...you'd really do this?"

A slight tilt of the head. "We are friends, are we not?"

The blonde slowly nodded, a fresh surge of new emotions washing away the debris of the tear-filled tsunami.

She threw her arms around the doppelgänger and pulled her into a forceful hug.

A few moments later she felt a light touch on her back, delicate as water droplets at first. The droplets slowly expanded in size and energy, until the doppelgänger's hands were gently cupping her shoulder blades.

"Yes," she whispered, crying into the redhead's shoulder. "Yes we are..."


	12. Nyanpassu

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 12

Elsie exited the King's Head and drew a breath of relief before descending the steps to join the doppelgänger on the sidewalk.

"That went well, all things considered," said the blonde as they started for home. "Doesn't give you much lead time though..."

The job interview had been mercifully short: a quick glance at Doppie's Green Card - no doubt provided by Lara's tech-savvy friend - and a brief chat had been enough to prompt Gwen to ask if the redhead could start the following Monday. Elsie had been concerned at the doppelgänger's clipped answers but Gwen had apparently attributed Doppie's paucity of conversation to shyness.

_Not an altogether undesirable misconception, mused the blonde._

Elsie smiled; the pub would be getting a highly proficient bouncer as a bonus.

They continued on in silence, the blonde becoming contemplative. In a matter of days the doppelgänger would experience the highs and lows of the daily grind. The Rat Race. Nine to Five.

For Elsie the anticipation was both exciting and worrisome: so much depended on Doppie's ability to integrate into society. What would be the consequences of failure?

Equally worrisome, and most surprising to Elsie herself, would be the potential consequences of success.

She knew the day would inevitably come when the doppelgänger would 'fly the coop' - but the notion was filling the blonde with oddly conflicting emotions.

"Doppie...are you absolutely sure you're ready for this?"

"This is the fourth time you've posed that question since yesterday," remarked the doppelgänger.

"Really? Sorry, I didn't realize. It's just that...um...never mind."

The redhead glanced at her.

"Do I not consume food, as you encouraged me to do?"

"Well yes, but -"

"Have I not undertaken to sleep at night as you asked?"

"Sure, but -"

"Have I killed anyone this week?"

"No, but -"

"I'm beginning to detect a lack of confidence," concluded the doppelgänger.

"Doppie, don't get me wrong," clarified the blonde. "I don't doubt your ability. If anything I think this job is...well, almost an insult to your potential."

"That is true," agreed the redhead. "However Lara held a similar vocation during her studies at university, did she not?"

"I suppose..."

"Every journey has a beginning, yes?"

Elsie regarded the doppelgänger with a sly expression. "That's surprisingly poetic coming from you."

"I've been reading."

"So I've noticed," returned the blonde. "Just...try and keep that temper in check, ya?"

"I've told you I will not kill a patron," assured the redhead.

"Good."

"...unless, of course, I should feel like it."

"Doppie!"

The doppelgänger continued on in silence, the slight smile on her features at least partly reassuring the blonde she'd added the last part as a tease.

Elsie swallowed her retort. Right now the most important thing was to be supportive.

After all, the doppelgänger had barely experienced normal life since arriving. And there wasn't much time to gauge her reaction to the inevitable pitfalls society would throw her way.

Patience was not a virtue the redhead possessed in abundance, Elsie knew all too well.

Deep down, the blonde knew she was playing with fire - all while roller skating under a ladder, scissors in hand.

But what other choice was there? Unless...

_I wonder...?_

"Hey, I just got an idea...a dry run, if you will."

Doppie looked at her. "Yes?"

"There's a Hallowe'en party not far from here on Saturday," explained Elsie. "I wasn't going to go, but...why don't we?"

The doppelgänger was silent.

"We don't have to stay all night," clarified the blonde. "We can leave whenever you've had enough. What do you say?"

"What would be required of me?"

"Nothing, just mingle a little, is all. Small talk. Test out your social skills. Oh, but we'll have to get you appropriately costumed, of course."

The doppelgänger seemed decidedly unenthusiastic. "If you like..."

Elsie was mulling over an appropriate identity for the redhead when the crosswalk sign up ahead started flashing. She broke into a run.

"Hurry!"

She and the doppelgänger bolted across the intersection, the crossing light changing to a steady crimson just as they scampered onto the sidewalk.

"Are we in a rush?" asked Doppie.

"Not really," returned Elsie as she stared at the glowing red light.

_Epiphany!_

She whirled on the redhead.

"I know, how'd you like to go as Poison Ivy? You've already got the hair for it."

The doppelgänger gave no reaction.

Elsie's shoulder's drooped.

"Oh wait...no, that won't work..."

"Why?"

"I don't have an outfit for her...and it's not like I have the materials to make one, either...crap!"

"Could I not go as I am?" asked Doppie, eliciting a laugh from the blonde.

"Er, it's a _Hallowe'en_ party, d'uh! You can't just go as...oh, wait a minute..."

The blonde considered the doppelgänger unblinking stare.

"Okay, you can't go as _yourself_ , exactly...but I think I got something that might work..."

Elsie grinned to herself as Doppie regarded her curiously. _Oh yeah...yeah, I can definitely see it..._

The two resumed their trek. Elsie's flat soon loomed into view, but it was the small figure sitting on the front steps that drew the blonde's attention.

The girl stood up at their approach. The two yellow ribbons trailing from the long sand-colored hair provided instant confirmation of their owner's identity.

Elsie waved.

"An acquaintance of yours?" asked the doppelgänger.

"Oh yeah," nodded the blonde. "Sophie. Neighbour's kid. I babysit her from time to time...sweet little thing."

The nine year-old bundle of precocious energy bounded down the sidewalk and skidded to a stop before the two women.

Sophie raised her right hand high in the air, fingers splayed out.

"Nyanpassu," declared the girl, her pretty features devoid of expression.

Elsie's own hand shot up in response. "Nyanpassu."

Sophie's impassive gaze turned to the doppelgänger.

Elsie cleared her throat and nudged the redhead's foot.

Doppie arched an eyebrow but duly mirrored the girl's stance.

"Nyan...passu..."

Apparently satisfied, the girl turned back to Elsie and abruptly thrust a plastic container into the blonde's chest.

"It's lasagna," she announced. "Mom made some extra."

Elsie passed the container to the doppelgänger before crouching down to hug the girl. "Aww, that's so sweet! Thank you so much!"

"It's veggie," said Sophie, returning the embrace.

"I'm sure it'll be delicious," assured Elsie with a smile.

The blonde drew back and playfully mussed the girl's hair. "And tell your mom she's awesome, okay?"

The girl nodded seriously and bolted down the sidewalk.

"Curious," remarked the doppelgänger.

"She's a different bird," agreed Elsie. "But she's a good egg."

"I meant her greeting," clarified Doppie. "What was the significance of that, exactly?"

"Oh, that...you know, I've no idea," admitted the blonde. "It's just you won't get anywhere with her until you give the proper response, she'll literally just stand there and stare. Can be sort of unnerving really. At least until you get to know her."

Elsie gave the doppelgänger a sideways glance. "Kinda reminds me of someone, actually..."

A frown. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing," said the blonde as she started back down the walkway. "Nothing at all..."

~oOo~

Elsie flicked on the lights and led the new interns into the back room.

She waved at the myriad stacks of books scattered haphazardly across various shelves, cabinets and tables. "The Gallery's been planning an expansion for the past two years to display all this stuff, but for now this is the only space we have to house the overflow. Needless to say, we keep this section off limits to visitors."

"Wow," breathed Maya, one of the two new interns that had just started work that morning. "There's as many books in here as there are out there…maybe even more..."

She turned to the blonde. "You guys have an inventory problem."

Elsie smiled at the young Hispanic girl. "Hence why we really need you guys. The owner's a bit old fashioned so it's only over the last year or so that we've started inventorying our stock in an electronic database. But the work had to take a back seat after we lost our last two interns, so..."

The young Asian man who'd been introduced as Patrick chuckled. "I hope that's not foreshadowing..."

"Well, funny you should mention that," returned the blonde. "There's two rules that will definitely help you stay on the owner's good side. One, do NOT wear jeans - he absolutely loathes them. And two, no eating or drinking near the inventory."

"No jeans?" asked Patrick. "Even back here?"

Elsie put her hands up. "I'm just giving you some friendly advice," she explained. "If you absolutely want to wear them, go ahead, but if he sees you it'll be your ass."

"That bad?"

Elsie nodded knowingly. " _Loathes_ them."

Patrick shuffled nervously. "Okay...got it."

Maya grabbed a book from atop one of the stacks and thumbed through the pages. "The Road...oh, I'd love to read this..."

"Well, nothing's stopping you," said Elsie, moving nearer to read the book's spine. "We all indulge on our down time...you like McCarthy?"

The girl slipped the book back atop its stack and nodded. "I loved _No Country for Old Men_. Well, the book, anyway."

"Gellis will love you," smiled the blonde. "Anyway, as you can see, this place is a bit of a shambles. So your first order of business will be to, er...de-shambelize."

Maya grinned. Patrick looked slightly dubious.

"So, what's the priority?" asked the girl. "I'm assuming we sort by genre first?"

The blonde nodded. "Genre, then alphabetically. Once you're done that I'll show you how to enter them in the database, then you can pull their corresponding cards from the index and cross them off as you go."

"Cool," said Maya, her gaze drifting over Elsie's shoulder.

The blonde turned to spy Gellis peeking in from the doorway.

"Hey," voiced the raven-haired woman tentatively. "Got a minute?"

"Uh, sure," said Elsie, turning to the interns. "You guys okay to start?"

"No problem," assured Patrick.

"Yeah, we got this," echoed Maya.

"Great," returned Elsie. "I'll check back on you guys later."

She turned to her friend. "Hey…you okay?"

Gellis motioned for Elsie to join her in the hall.

"I'm so sorry for the other day," said Gellis softly as the blonde closed the door. "I couldn't get it out of my mind all weekend..."

"Hey, hey," said Elsie, patting the older woman's arm affectionately, "Don't you go torturing yourself, okay?"

Gellis shook her head. "Point is, it wasn't my call to make."

She moved closer and took the blonde's hands in hers.

"Forgive me?"

Elsie smiled sadly. "Oh, Gel..."

She drew forward and embraced the older woman in a hug. "Of course I do, gods..."

The raven-haired woman patted Elsie's back affectionately. "Thank you..."

The blonde pulled back and smiled. "Coffee break?"

"You got it, kiddo," said Gellis with a grin. "My treat."

They'd started down the hall to Gellis' office when they were intercepted by Nathan Fletcher's personal assistant.

"There you are," said Wanda, looking strangely agitated. "I've been looking everywhere for you two!"

"We were in the back," offered Gellis, her brow creasing in concern. "Is everything all right?"

The bespectacled woman ignored the question. "Have either of you seen Rollie?"

"Uh...I assumed he was out on the floor," said Elsie. "Why?"

"We need you three in Nathan's office, stat," returned Wanda as she started back down the hall.

Gellis stepped forward. "What's going on?"

The woman replied without looking back. "The police are here."

The two friends glanced at each other, faces etched with apprehension.


	13. Brainnnsss

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 13

"So none of you had any contact with Mr. Klipman since the sixteenth? No texts, e-mails?"

The detective - Elsie couldn't remember his name - had been questioning Gellis, Rollie and herself for the last twenty minutes in Fletcher's office. Had Klipman mentioned an upcoming trip? Had he seemed agitated? Did he have any relatives in the area?

The investigator had gone over the same series of questions repeatedly, as though he suspected one or all of them to be withholding information. As a consequence Elsie's swelling anxiety was manifesting itself in a worrying lightheadedness.

She had to hold it together a little longer - for Doppie's sake.

Of course, she hadn't technically _lied_ to the investigator - her answers had been truthful. But the way he kept looking at her with particular interest was seriously undermining the blonde's efforts to remain calm and collected.

_He knows something...shit..._

The three co-workers were seated together in the curator's office, the detective scribbling notes behind the large teak desk. Nathan Fletcher stood quietly in the corner, hands clasped behind his back.

Again the same questions. Again the same answers.

The man nodded with a sigh and closed his notepad.

"Well then, I won't keep you any longer..."

Intensely relieved, Elsie almost jumped to her feet.

"...except you, Miss Trainor."

Elsie winced inwardly.

_Please, no..._

"I beg your pardon?" asked Fletcher in his familiar deep voice.

The detective addressed the gallery owner. "I should like to speak with Miss Trainor in private, if you please."

Fletcher looked mildly irritated. "May I ask why?"

"It...it's alright, Nathan," returned the blonde. The last thing she wanted to do right now was appear uncooperative.

"Are you quite certain?"

Elsie smiled at the curator. "I'll be fine."

Gellis gave the blonde a sympathetic glance as she and Rollie quietly shuffled out of the office, a reluctant Fletcher in tow.

The door clicked shut.

The detective stood up and came to sit on the desk corner. "Please, have a seat."

Trying her best to conceal a nervous swallow, Elsie slowly sank back into the padded guest chair she'd occupied only moments before.

The man smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry for keeping you, Miss Trainor."

Elsie smiled back, desperately hoping her anxiety wasn't seeping out through her pores. "That's okay...just doing your job, right?"

The man nodded. He seemed a genial sort, at least. Mid fifties, Elsie guessed, balding and rather sedentary - probably edging close to retirement.

"I wanted to speak to you privately, away from the others," explained the detective. "I realize Mr. Klipman's disappearance must have stunned everyone, but it's vitally important that you share any information that might be relevant to our investigation, no matter how seemingly trivial. I trust you understand that?"

"I...yes, of course," agreed Elsie, her toes fidgeting within the confines of her shoes.

The man hesitated.

"Would you consider yourself well-acquainted with Mr. Klipman?"

"Absolutely not," shot back Elsie firmly.

"I see," said the detective. "I take it you aren't friends, then?"

Elsie shook her head. "We were barely co-workers."

The man's eyebrows raised at that. "Were?"

_Fuck..._

"I...I meant that...with his disappearance and all..."

"It's all right," assured the detective. "You're not under investigation here, Miss Trainor. I'm simply trying to gather as much relevant information as possible."

But Elsie's anxiety was not mollified - she could sense tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow.

The man became pensive.

"You understand that this is all strictly confidential, yes?"

Elsie frowned. Where was he going with this?

"I understand..."

"During our search of Mr. Klipman's apartment, we found...shall we say, particular items...that link him to certain cold cases in California and the Midwest."

Elsie's breathing became shallow.

"Cold...cases...?"

She hadn't liked the sound of that. Not at all.

"As I said - "

"Strictly confidential," repeated the blonde in a near whisper.

The man seemed to be struggling with a decision, his fingers rapping against the side of the desk.

"I have a daughter your age," he finally stated solemnly. He took a deep breath before continuing. "God help me if anything ever happened to her..."

Elsie stomach twisted slightly. _Now that's a father..._

"I...I'm afraid I don't -"

"We found...maps...itineraries...photographs..."

He looked at her pointedly.

A chill slowly snaked down Elsie's spine.

"...of me," she concluded.

The man nodded. "Not too put too fine a point on it, but, yes. It appears you were to have been his next...well..."

"...target."

Another grim nod. "Which is why I'm coming to you, Miss Trainor, for any information the others might not have been privy to."

Elsie was close to losing it. She'd known Klipman was a complete prick...but this was an altogether different dimension of depravity.

_Just...hold it together, girl..._

The man cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask...did he...ever make any inappropriate advances?"

"I lost count," replied the blonde hoarsely. "But never when anyone was around, of course..."

"Did you ever confront him?"

Elsie shook her head. "I made it a point to avoid him whenever possible..."

"I understand," said the detective. "I'm sorry for bringing back unpleasant memories, but we're still trying to figure out why he disappeared seemingly overnight. If he is the suspect in our other cases - and at this point it seems likely - it doesn't match his M.O.. He'd always been methodical about leaving nothing behind before moving on. Clearly something's spooked him. We need to find out what."

The man slid off the desk. "If it's any consolation, I highly doubt he'll ever come back to this city. In any event, a warrant's been issued for his arrest. We'll get him before long now that we know who to look for, don't you worry."

The detective opened the door.

Offered desperately-sought freedom, Elsie didn't move from the chair.

Hunched over, she'd buried her face in her palms, shoulders heaving.

~oOo~

Elsie locked the door behind her and flopped back against its weathered surface.

The day's revelations were still percolating within her. She hadn't spoken to anyone about the detective's divulgement. Not that she could've had she wanted - repeating the slightest word would've caused her to implode into an incomprehensible puddle of anguish.

The notion of what might have been - what very nearly had been- had made her sick to her stomach for the better part of the day. She might well have been another statistic. Another cold case filed away in some nondescript cabinet.

_If it hadn't been for..._

"Doppie?"

A clang of metal dropping into the sink. "Kitchen."

Elsie removed her coat and let it fall to the floor.

In her tiny kitchen she found the doppelgänger scanning a magazine recipe in one hand while slowly mixing a batter with the other. The countertop was a disaster zone, covered in a messy layer of flour, spilled cream, pans, measuring cups, wooden spoons and assorted ingredients.

Doppie _had_ expressed her desire to expand her culinary experience, but Elsie had assumed she'd meant sampling a greater variety of foods - not preparing them. The kitchen looked as though it had been the chosen battlefield in a kindergarten's food fight.

But none of that mattered.

Doppie glanced at her - and immediately straightened.

"What's wrong?"

Elsie drew a deep breath and threw herself at the doppelgänger, grappling the redhead in profound appreciation. The magazine flopped to the floor.

"Thank you," whispered the blonde, hugging Doppie for all she was worth. "Thank you...thank you...thank you..."

The doppelgänger awkwardly patted the blonde's back.

"It's only dessert..."

~oOo~

Elsie's hands were sticky with blood.

_Dammit..._

Wiping her fingers with a towel, she drew back to observe her handiwork: the doppelgänger was covered in blood and filth and exhibiting gruesome signs of decay.

For appropriate trappings she'd clad the doppelgänger in the shredded and bloodstained tank top and cargo pants Lara had left behind two years before. Elsie had never been able to bring herself to throw out the heretofore unusable garb: she still found it hard to believe their original owner had survived their near-destruction.

They'd once clad someone near death: now they would clad the living dead.

Elsie hadn't bothered masking Doppie's ghostly white skin or golden yellow eyes, reasoning - correctly, as it turned out - they'd serve to enhance the overall ghoulish effect. On this night, the faint lightning bolts of bluish veins would not be hidden from view but instead be on full display.

Having released the redhead's ponytail from its restraining band, Elsie had vigorously mussed up the thick mane with a mix of hair oil and baby powder to give Doppie that fresh-out-of-the-grave countenance.

"Well you look positively ghastly," remarked the blonde as she brushed away a grayish lock that had strayed over the redhead's left eye.

"I thought that was your intent?"

"Uh-huh..."

Made up as she was and with her unblinking gaze, the doppelgänger made a disturbingly convincing zombie.

And strangely hot.

But then, the application of blood, dirt and prosthetics to the doppelgänger's skin had been an undeniably intimate process: it had most definitely pushed the blonde's touchy-feely buttons. Her heart was likewise beating a little more quickly than could be explained from the lack of exertion.

She swallowed her lower lip. Apart from her eyes, pale skin and wine-hued hair, Doppie was truly an exact physical duplicate of her template – and had become even more so since retaining Lara's familiar ponytail.

"Are you done?"

Elsie blinked; she somehow found herself staring into golden irises a bare hand's breadth from the doppelgänger's face – any closer and their noses would engage in an impromptu joust.

The kitchen chair squeaked against the linoleum as the blonde drew back hurriedly.

"Er, sure...yeah..."

Doppie gave her a curious look before wandering off to examine her newly-zombified self in the bathroom mirror.

Elsie rummaged through her satchel for her keys, fumbling them twice before finally gaining a solid grip.

_Okay...just calm down...she's not Lara, for fuck's sake..._

It didn't exactly help that she was already nervous about subjecting the doppelgänger to the massive jolt a party would doubtlessly precipitate. It was one reason she'd chosen a zombie mien for the redhead's social inauguration: if she behaved in typically doppelgänger-ish fashion people would simply assume she was playing true to character.

The blonde glanced at her phone: it was already past seven o'clock. She'd have to clean up the cluttered breakfast nook when they got back.

She made her way to the landing and opened the door.

"You coming? We're already late..."

The doppelgänger reappeared moments later, giving Elsie that same odd look as before.

"What?"

"Your pupils are still dilated," observed the redhead. "Bit of a necrophiliac, are we?"

"What are you – _NO!_ "

Doppie casually sauntered off down the walkway. Elsie grasped her mallet and locked the door behind her before storming off in pursuit.

"Okay, I am NOT a necrophiliac!"

A tiny voice. "What's a necrophiliac?"

Elsie spun around; a miniaturized Edward Scissorhands sporting a plastic jack-'o-lantern bucket peered up at her in curiosity, a small group of fellow ghouls clustered behind.

_Oh, shit..._

"Would you like to tell him or shall I?" asked Doppie by the car.

"I, er...it's someone who, um, cleans windows for a living," explained the blonde before scampering off.

"No it isn't," announced a tiny Rey, waving her lightsaber for emphasis. "It's somebody who thinks they're sick all the time."

"That's dumb," returned 'Edward'.

Elsie scurried into the car and twisted the ignition, the resulting cacophony from the engine drowning out any further questioning from the goblin troupe. Doppie lithely leapt over the closed door and dropped down into the passenger seat as though she'd done so a hundred times before.

"Window washer."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Elsie as she threw the car into gear.


	14. Full Blown Zombie Mode

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 14

"Cool!"

"Thanks!"

"Hey, nice getup."

"Thank you."

"Well, hello Miss Quinzel!"

"Hiya, pumpkin!"

"Holy shit!"

"Hey, sugar."

 _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,_ mused Elsie.

She slowly squeezed her way through the crowd, Taylor Swift's _Bad Blood_ blaring over the hall's speakers. An hour since her arrival and she still hadn't come across anyone she recognized - other than Xena's Gabrielle, whom she vaguely remembered from the local organic food mart. But she was hardly an acquaintance she could just chat up - she didn't even know the girl's name.

She kicked herself for not having told Gellis she'd changed her mind about attending.

Pressing through a sea of strange faces (and even stranger costumes), the blonde felt uncomfortably isolated - which made maintaining Harley Quinn's bubbly persona doubly challenging.

She'd long since lost track of Doppie, the redhead having unexpectedly melted into the mass of partygoers shortly after their arrival. Of course that was the whole point of their coming in the first place - so why was she longing for the doppelgänger's comforting presence?

One definite possibility: she hated crowds.

The blonde needed to find a familiar face soon, lest her anxiety begin to manifest itself in a very un-Harley-ish fashion.

She decided to make for the relative quiet of the punch table along the back wall opposite the elevated stage.

Squeezing through the mass of humanity - and undead - she'd almost extricated herself from the worst of the crowd when a familiar voice buzzed behind her.

"Where do you think you're going, Harley?"

Elsie turned and found herself face to face with her nemesis.

_Oh, wow..._

Clad in a purple tuxedo, orange waistcoat and crowned with a chaotic mass of lime green hair, a wildly grinning Joker loomed before her. But the combination of colorful accoutrements and garish makeup were preventing her from putting a face to the voice.

Elsie smiled uncertainly. "Hey there, Mistah J...?"

The figure stepped forward: there was a playful glint in the Joker's hazel eyes. A spark Elsie had seen many times before.

Her neural pathways suddenly connected.

_Zack...?!_

The blonde's smile brightened in recognition.

"Been lookin' for ya, Quinzel," voiced the 'Joker', leaning forward. "Come give daddy a big kiss."

Elsie grinned impishly. _Fat chance, bud!_

She tightened her grip on the shaft of her mallet. "Coming right up, puddin'..."

Elsie swung the styrofoam-headed mallet in an arc, bringing it straight down atop the Joker's noggin. Zack duly staggered under the 'impact', eliciting laughter from the nearby partygoers.

Harley shouldered her oversized hammer and smiled in satisfaction at the groggy clown.

"Howzzat, sugar bottom?"

The green-haired figure quickly shook off the cobwebs and grinned in reply. "Now is that any way to greet your one-and-only?"

The Joker took a backhanded 'swipe' at Harley: Elsie's stunt training instantly kicked in as she propelled herself in a backwards somersault, flipping 270 degrees in midair before falling to the floor. She winced in the spilt second before impact, having braced her hands out to absorb the shock.

A searing bolt of agony shot up from Elsie's injured wrist as the surrounding crowd roared their approval.

_Fuck!_

The blonde gritted her teeth. She lay on the floor and buried her face in her arms as she waited for the near-crippling pain to recede.

Zack's voice drifted down from somewhere above her. "Holy shit, that was awesome! I hope somebody caught that on vid...Elsie? You okay?"

The blonde nodded into the crook of her arm.

"Just...overdid it a little..."

"C'mon, lemme help you up -"

But no hand touched her.

A surprised gasp, followed by a loud crash. Someone shrieked.

Elsie's head shot up. The nearby partygoers had pulled back to form a semicircle.

In its centre was the Joker's twitching form, sprawled haphazardly across the collapsed punch table. Various colour liquids slowly pooled around him, intermixed with overturned bowls, plastic cups and slices of orange and lime - one of which slowly rolled over to flop against the blonde's arm.

Behind the Joker loomed a clearly livid doppelgänger: her golden-yellow eyes glowed with the intensity of flame, the faint bluish hue of the veins on her arms and shoulders now deepened to an almost pure black. Her shoulders rose and fell in rapid rhythm.

The very air around the redhead seemed to crackle in intensity.

_Oh, shit...full-blown zombie mode..._

The surrounded crowd buzzed excitedly.

"Look at her eyes! How's she doing that?"

"Battery-powered contacts, maybe?"

"And where would the batteries be, in her eyeballs?"

"Is that part of the act?"

"I...guess...?"

"Fuck, she's hot..."

"Get in line, Marie!"

"Who needs Liv?"

"Damn, we're out of punch..."

The zombie bent forward and grasped the Joker's lapels, hauling him up to eye level with frightening ease. Zack's feet slipped repeatedly against the punch-drenched floor.

"Let's see how witty the Joker can be without his tongue," growled the doppelgänger.

"DOPPIE, NO!"

The redhead met her gaze.

"Are you badly injured?"

Elsie scampered to her feet. "No, I'm not!"

"What she said," echoed Zack nervously, his feet sliding hopelessly on the slick linoleum in a fruitless attempt to regain his footing.

The doppelgänger frowned in confusion.

The blonde stepped forward, holding her hands out in supplication. "He never touched me, Doppie. It was all my doing...let him go. Please."

The redhead turned to glower at her captive.

"Stand down," urged the blonde. "Come on, girl...set DefCon five..."

The fire in the doppelgänger's eyes slowly died out. The sharply defined black veins faded to a pale blue.

Murmurs from the crowd.

"How the Hell does she do that?"

"Painted on electrodes, maybe?"

"If I wasn't seeing it in person I'd swear that was CGI..."

Elsie scowled. This most definitely hadn't been a good idea.

Zack raised a hand in tentative greeting. "Um...hi...?"

The redhead released her grip, dropping her charge unceremoniously to the floor. The Joker's prosthetic chin jarred loose from the impact.

"Ow!"

Elsie clapped her hands to her forehead in disbelief. "Doppie! What the Hell?!"

"It...it's alright," said Zack, pushing himself to his knees.

Elsie scurried forward and helped him to his feet.

"You sure you're okay?"

The 'Joker' nodded, attempting to push his disarticulated chin back into position without success.

The apparent theatrics over, the surrounding crowd began to lose interest and merge back into the central mass of partygoers. Elsie breathed a sigh of relief.

Zack held out his hand to the doppelgänger. "So, um...I guess we haven't been formally introduced. Doppie, is it?"

The doppelgänger ignored the proffered hand and took a menacing step forward. Zack quickly drew back despite having a good six inches and forty pounds on the redhead.

"If you harm her I will personally hunt you down and compel you to donate your organs to the local canines," snarled the redhead, switching to her natural tenebrous voice to add further gravitas to her threat.

_"DOPPIE!"_

But the doppelgänger had already melted into the crowd.

Zack blew out his cheeks.

"Okay...why do I believe everything she just said...?"

"She doesn't mean it," fibbed Elsie, patting Zack's back comfortingly. "She just...had a bad day, is all..."

"Must have been a real shitty one," remarked Zack. "Damn, she manhandled me like a Terminatrix. Who is she, anyway? Doppie? Is that a nickname?"

"She's...a friend," answered Elsie softly. "At least, I think..."

~oOo~

It made for a decidedly odd sight: a zombie and Harley Quinn sitting side by side atop a grassy knoll amidst Portland's Evergreen Cemetery, quietly conversing.

"I don't understand," said Doppie. "If you've no family here…why come to this place?"

Elsie smiled at the waxing moon, now glowing almost directly overhead. The night air was unusually warm for the last day of the old Celtic summer, the leafless branch tips barely swaying in the mild breeze: It was altogether more pleasurable than the previous year when the blonde had sought refuge from the howling winds and blowing sleet under the entrance to the central crypt.

"I come every Hallowe'en," replied Elsie finally. "It's not because of anyone buried here…"

She could sense the doppelgänger's persistent gaze; she hadn't answered the redhead's question.

"It's…complicated," explained the blonde.

The gaze didn't waver.

_Oh, what the Hell…_

She took a deep breath.

She tore off a few blades of grass and rubbed them between her fingers. "There was...another Hallowe'en party a few years ago…after which I lost someone very close to me."

"So you come here to remember," concluded the doppelgänger.

Elsie nodded sadly. "Yes…"

"You humans have such a need to commemorate."

"Maybe you'll feel differently about that once Death steals someone you love," shot back the blonde.

"So you were lovers, then."

"Geez, hello Miss Bluntface!" replied Elsie, shooting Doppie a sharp look. "Look, it might be an alien concept to you but it's entirely possible to love someone without it being romantic."

Harley threw the crumpled blades of grass away. The doppelgänger's attention shifted away.

Down in the oldest part of the cemetery Elsie watched as a cloaked figure slowly moved among the weathered tombstones.

It was an odd time to see someone, thought the blonde, it being near midnight. Then again, here she was sitting in a cemetery in full Harley Quinn regalia, with a zombie in tow, no less. Who would be viewed the more bizarre by an independent panel?

_Speaking of bizarre…_

Elsie idly tugged at her shoelaces. "Doppie…mind telling me what you were doing back there, at the party?"

The doppelgänger's gaze returned.

"Mingling, as you suggested."

"Is that so?" countered the blonde. "I guess it was just a coincidence then that you happened to be 'mingling' near me when Zack showed up…"

Silence.

She turned to the redhead. "Who'd you chat with? What'd you talk about?"

"Mingle means to mix," returned the doppelgänger calmly. "There is no requirement for conversation."

"Oh, don't you get technical with me," shot back the blonde. "You were watching me the whole time, weren't you?"

That frustratingly inscrutable stare.

Elsie sighed.

"Look…you need to let me breathe a little. You can't go assaulting people like that…if that had been any other place at any other time..."

"Your friend wasn't injured."

"That's beside the point! You could've ended up in jail - Hell, we were lucky enough not to get stuck with damages!"

"I thought he was attacking you -"

"Oh, bullshit!" snapped Elsie. "That first bit, maybe...but I told you to back off you still went ahead and threatened to feed him to the dogs. What gives, Doppie?"

The doppelgänger's gaze faltered ever so slightly.

"I...don't wish to see you come to harm."

Elsie's shoulders sagged.

"I...I appreciate that," said the blonde. "Really, I do...but Doppie, you don't exist for the purpose of protecting me. That isn't what you came here for."

"You're protective of Lara," countered the redhead.

"I _defend_ Lara," explained Elsie. "I don't protect her. Hell, how could I - I've seen the people she's up against."

The doppelgänger turned her gaze to the tombstones dotting the base of the hillock.

The blonde swallowed her bottom lip. "I'm not chewing you out, Doppie. I know you meant well, but you can't...just -"

Elsie frowned. Was she seeing right?

The doppelgänger's chin had dropped to her chest.

"I know I do not convey it well," said the redhead in a low voice. "But...I am fond of you, Elsie Trainor."

The blonde was momentarily speechless; the doppelgänger had never addressed her by name before.

"It is...difficult for me to speak of such things," explained the doppelgänger.

_No shit..._

She turned to the blonde, moonlight reflected in her eyes. "I know nothing of friendship...other than that which you have given me...I treasure it greatly."

Elsie swallowed a buildup of emotion. Shifting over until their hips touched, she snaked an arm around the redhead's waist and gently squeezed.

"I'm...very fond of you too," breathed the blonde. "But you really don't have to protect me from my friends..."

The redhead's form gradually softened against Elsie.

"I imagine he hates me now, yes?"

"Nah," replied Elsie, gently nudging the redhead. "Zack's not that kind of guy. Maybe a little intimidated, though..."

"Please tell him I will not extract his organs," said the doppelgänger.

"I'll let him know," replied the blonde, burying her face in the unkempt mass of grave-tinged hair. "And Doppie...?"

"Yes?"

Elsie hesitated.

"I wish I'd known you ten years ago..."

~oOo~

Elsie froze at the sight before her: the doppelgänger stretched out on her living room couch, reading a book.

In and of itself, it was nothing unusual. In fact it was the doppelgänger's default activity while at home. Problem was, she shouldn't have been there.

"What are you doing here?" asked the blonde, dropping her satchel to the floor. "I thought your shift didn't end until nine?"

The redhead as she flipped a page. "I was sacked."

"What? Why?"

"I exercised restraint," returned the doppelgänger without looking up.

Elsie groaned, moving over to flop down on couch near the redhead's feet. "Doppie, it was your first day! For crying out loud!"

"I will find other gainful employment."

The blonde sighed. "What happened?"

"I told you -"

"I want details!"

The doppelgänger slowly closed her book.

"Very well," she said coolly. "If you must know...a patron clutched my backside."

Elsie's eyes grew to saucers. "Oh my God...is he alive?"

"As I said," repeated the redhead. "I exercised restraint."

"So...broken bones, then?"

The doppelgänger shook her head. "Unlike him, I kept my hands to myself."

"But...how did..."

"I served him his beer," said Doppie. "Only I retained the glass."

Elsie guffawed despite herself, covering her mouth with both hands. "Oh my God...you totally hosed him!"

"I did."

"Good girl, Doppie," said the blonde, squeezing the redhead's foot affectionately. "You did right. He totally deserved that."

"And he breathes still."

"I'm particularly proud of you for that part," emphasized Elsie. "I can't believe they fired you for standing up for yourself though..."

"As I said, I will find another - wait, where are you going?"

Elsie had jumped from the couch and fished her keys from of her satchel.

"I'm going to give Gwen a piece of my mind," said the blonde. "I'll be back in a bit."

~oOo~

Upon catching sight of the blonde's angry mien Gwen gave a noticeable sigh.

"I guess I know why you're here," said the redhead.

"I'm a bit pissed, I won't lie," affirmed Elsie.

The older woman nodded to an unoccupied booth in the far corner. "Come on, then. Daisy, cover for me for a bit, 'kay?"

"Sure thing," replied the young brunette as she shot by with a heavily loaded tray.

"What the Hell, Gwen?" asked the blonde before she'd even finished sliding into the seat. "How can you fire her on her first day? It's not like she killed anybody."

The redhead looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Elsie, your friend is...well, how can I put it..."

Elsie frowned. "What?"

Gwen gave her an apologetic look. "Well...for lack of a better word...cold."

The blonde huffed in disbelief. "That's it?"

"She's just not suited for this type of work," explained the older woman. "It's nothing against her personally. Okay, yes, she makes a great first impression...she's an absolute knockout. But after that it's all downhill."

"What do you mean?"

Gwen shook her head. "Well for one, she doesn't smile. And she doesn't make small talk with the customers, there's just no interaction -"

"It can't be all bad!"

"I'm not saying that," returned the redhead. "For what it's worth, she does work hard. And she has a fantastic memory. But in this line of work you need at least a little personality for dealing with customers...and I'm sorry, Elsie, but she just doesn't have it. Hell, she deliberately dumped a beer on a customer for Christ's sake!"

"He groped her!" shot back the blonde.

The older woman looked genuinely surprised. "He...what?"

"He grabbed her ass," repeated Elsie. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No," answered Gwen slowly, running her hand through her hair. "No, she didn't..."

Elsie slouched back in her seat. "Well, then."

The redhead seemed confused.

"Why didn't she say anything?"

"That's not her style," said Elsie. "Doppie...tends to rely on herself."

Gwen scowled. "Well now I feel like shit..."

The blonde seized her chance.

"Hire her back," she pleaded, leaning forward. "Please, Gwen."

"Elsie -"

"I'll talk to her," insisted the blonde. "She'll do better. And if she doesn't, well, you can just fire her again. What've you got to lose?"

A long sigh.

"Oh, fine then..."

~oOo~

"Please, Doppie," begged the blonde. "It's not the end of the world."

"I feel nothing for those people," countered the doppelgänger irritably as she paced back and forth across the tiny kitchen. "How can you expect me to engage them in meaningless drivel?"

"Precisely because it is meaningless," returned Elsie. "It won't cost you anything, and at the same time it'll help you get a feel for dealing with people in everyday life."

Continued pacing.

"Please, Doppie," pleaded the blonde. "At least give it a shot?"

The redhead stopped and crossed her arms.

"Will you make me pancakes?"

"Every Sunday morning!" exclaimed Elsie, grinning. "Promise!"

The doppelgänger's curt nod was barely discernible.

But it was a victory. A step forward.

"You can do this," said Elsie consolingly, running her fingers along the redhead's shoulder. "Just channel your inner - hey, wait a minute..."

"What?"

Elsie regarded the redhead. "Just a thought, but...when you impersonated Lara, you didn't just look like her, you behaved like her too...I mean you even fooled me."

"Your point?"

The blonde drew closer. "Can you...switch it on and off like that? I mean, do you have a sort of...'Lara Mode'?"

"I know how Lara thinks," conceded the doppelgänger. "I can mimic her behaviour, but there is no essence behind it."

"There doesn't have to be!" said the blonde excitedly. "Don't you see? When you're at work, just...do what Lara would do."

Her phone buzzed before the doppelgänger could react.

_Trevor!_

"Hang on, I gotta take this..."

She thumbed the screen.

"Yo, guy!"

"Hi kid," answered Trevor.

"You guys ready for me? Just three more days!"

"Uh, yeah...about that..."

Elsie didn't like the sound of the stunt coordinator's voice at all.

"Oh no," she said, shoulders slumping. "Please don't tell me they've cut the scene..."

"Ah, no," confirmed Trevor. "But I almost wish they had..."

"Why? What's going on?"

"The scene's still a go, but..."

"What?"

"They...decided to go with someone else. I'm sorry, kid."

Elsie flopped down into one of the chairs in her breakfast nook: she felt as though she'd been kicked in the teeth.

"I...I don't understand," she choked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all," explained Trevor.

"I thought...they liked my work..."

"They do...believe me, they do. They're not questioning your dedication Elsie. It's just..."

The blonde swallowed. "What?"

"They're...concerned about your apparent, well..."

"WHAT?"

"They're worried about your brittleness," finished Trevor grimly. "Your last four jobs have all ended up with at least one broken bone...they're concerned it's not just coincidence."

"But...but...I finished all those jobs," countered the blonde in desperation. "I never cost them a day's filming..."

She couldn't lose this.

"Like I said, they're not doubting your dedication...they're just worried about, well...potential liability."

Elsie slouched back in the chair. She debated whether leaning over the sink such was the churning in her stomach.

"Don't take it too bad, kid," consoled Trevor. "They just want you to undergo a full physical, is all."

"A...physical...?"

"That's right, they've even picked out a physician in Portland for you...one he certifies there's no problem you'll be back on the list for the next jobs. It's not like it's forever."

The blonde leaned over the table, pressing a palm to her forehead. "Yeah...yeah, sure...thanks..."

"I've e-mailed you the details," said Trevor. "Just get yourself checked out, and we can put this whole business behind us. Okay, kid?"

"Yeah...thanks Trevor..."

She ended the call. And not a second too soon.

She lost it.

Burying her face in her arms she wailed without heed or restraint.

There would be no physical.

Her dream of a stunt career was over.

~oOo~

Elsie pushed through the holiday crowds, anxious to find her charge and get out - she couldn't so much as raise an arm without bumping into snow sure hadn't seemed to affect the crush of people coming to and fro.

_Damned Christmas rush..._

She'd already been nearly run over by a baggage cart being pushed recklessly through the teeming masses.

"Moron!" she'd shouted, too no effect.

More searching. It was hopeless. It would take forever in this sea of holiday travelers.

The blonde stopped. Pulling out her phone, she began thumbing the screen.

_Where are you?_

She suddenly felt herself yanked back, almost stumbling in the process.

"Oh, you fucking idi -"

And fell straight into the arms of Lara Croft.

Brown eyes smiled at her.

"Happy Christmas, Elsie."


	15. Impromptu Guests

THE DOPPELGÄNGER, Chapter 15

Elsie trudged on, her legs carving trenches in the shin deep snow. Forward progress at anything more than a slow shuffle was exhausting - but there was no point in belabouring their choice now. The die had been cast.

At least the wind had died down, the thickly falling snow now floating lazily downwards rather than blowing horizontally into their faces. But even so, the blonde was beginning to experience numbness in her extremities.

They had to find shelter soon.

"Let me go ahead," called Lara from behind. "My turn."

"Nah, I'm good," replied Elsie, pushing extra energy into her voice to camouflage her exhaustion.

"You can't be 'good'," countered Lara. "I'm getting tired just following in your footsteps...come on, Elsie..."

"I'm fine," insisted the blonde, speeding up her trudge in emphasis.

"Bugger, but you can be stubborn..."

"Your stride is too long for me," offered the American as further excuse.

"We have the same stride!" protested the brunette. "I'm not a bloody Yeti!"

The blonde smiled in spite of their predicament. It felt exhilarating to be on another adventure with her friend - even if it _had_ been completely unplanned.

Elsie was astonished at the state of the 'road': it clearly hadn't been plowed despite it being well past nine o'clock. The few trenches made by previous vehicles had long since filled in, leaving behind nothing more than slight depressions in the accumulated snow. They hadn't seen so much as another vehicle since abandoning the car.

Little wonder – from the news, the blizzard had ground most of the Northeastern seaboard to a halt. She knew snow removal crews would be scrambling to cope, but still...

It didn't help matters that the only illumination was that provided by the tiny LED light strapped to her beanie, a piece of kit she'd forgotten in her glove compartment since spelunking two years prior – and there was no telling how much longer the batteries would hold up.

They truly were in the middle of nowhere - save for Elsie's tiny light, all was pitch black.

It was from that blackness that the blonde caught a faint glimmer of light in the distance.

Elsie came to a stop. _Car?_

Lara caught up to her a moment later. "Finally!" she voiced. "Right then, my turn."

"No, it's fine - "

"I can see your breath, Elsie," stated the brunette firmly. "You're huffing like a bloody locomotive."

"No, look..."

She pointed to the beckoning light in the darkness.

It wasn't a vehicle, she decided. Unless it was stuck.

Lara frowned. "What is that...a homestead?"

"Maybe a service station," suggested the blonde in between pants. "I just hope it's open..."

She broke out into a run.

"Hey! Why you little -"

Elsie grinned in spite of her body's almost crippling fatigue. She could hear the brunette cursing behind her - _It's not a bloody race_ \- but she'd gained enough of a lead in her two second head start that she was the first to reach what appeared to be a Mom  & Pop-style roadside diner, the brunette hot on her heels.

She pulled on the door handle - it miraculously swung open, tiny bells chiming over her head.

Scurrying inside, she promptly stubbed her toe, the heavy boots conspiring with exhausted muscles so that she crumpled into a heap. Lara could not avoid tripping over the blonde's form as she blanketed the American with her full weight.

"Oof!"

"Ow!"

"Shit! Elsie!"

The blonde burst into ragged laughter. The archaeologist buried her face into the nape of her companion's neck, her own body likewise quivering with mirth.

"Hey…at least...we're out...of the cold," gasped Elsie in between fits of wheezing giggles.

A surprised voice from somewhere above them. "Good Lord! Where'd you two come from?"

Blonde and brunette craned their heads upward simultaneously.

Standing before them was a slim woman of middling height, her shoulder length silver hair framing a paradoxically youthful face: Elsie was mystified as to the woman's age.

"Um...hi?"

Lara quickly rolled off the blonde and got to her feet. "I'm sorry, the door was open and we -"

"It's all right," said the woman. "We're open for business, not that it matters much on a night like this. I just didn't see a car pull in…"

Elsie drew up to her knees and shook the accumulated snow from her beanie.

"We, uh, had to leave our car behind -"

"Which was odd, considering the balding tyres and rear-drive," jabbed the brunette.

"They're not balding!" protested Elsie. "They're...just a little worn, is all..."

The woman shook her head incredulously. "I'm amazed you were even driving in this weather...you do realize the whole state's under a snow emergency, right?"

Elsie looked to her companion. "Yeah, well...we only have a few days, so..."

Lara stepped forward "Might we trouble you to use your phone? Neither one of us could get a signal out here..."

The blonde scampered to her feet. "That's right! We need to call a tow truck quick, before a plow comes by!"

"A tow in this mess?" asked the woman. "They'll be swamped with calls already, I doubt you'll get one before morning."

Elsie's shoulders sagged. "Oh, fu - fiddlesticks..."

The woman smiled. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little face, hun, we won't leave you in the lurch."

She craned her neck to the kitchen. "HENRY!"

A moment later an older man of perhaps fifty emerged from behind the swinging doors. Elsie thought he didn't look the part of a cook - with his denim overalls and battered Yankees cap, he looked more like a backwoods handyman.

"Customers?" he asked in surprise, his gaze settling on the two young women. "Damn, they have more guts than Cargill..."

"Henry, these two young ladies...um..."

"Lara," said the brunette, proffering her hand.

"Elsie," copied the blonde.

"Marilla," returned the woman with a smile.

The silver-haired woman turned back to the man Elsie presumed to be her husband: "Lara and Elsie here had to leave their car out on the highway...how far back would you say?"

Elsie looked to the brunette. "Er...about a mile...?"

"East or west?"

"East."

"That'd be up around Rae's Creek or thereabouts," mused Henry, stroking the grey stubble on his chin.

"Can you help them out, hun? They're in a tight spot time-wise."

The man smiled, his face creasing genially. "For these two pretty little things? I'd never forgive myself if I didn't."

Elsie threw herself at the man and wrapped her arms around his girth in appreciation. "Thank you so much!"

Lara's gratitude was considerably more reserved but no less sincere.

"Thank you," she said earnestly. "We do appreciate this, truly."

"Now now," said Henry, patting Elsie's head. "Thank me when I get back, I haven't even found your car yet."

The blonde fished out her keys and handed them to Henry. "She's a Volkswagen Thing...please be gentle..."

Lara rolled her eyes.

Marilla frowned. "A Volks... _what?"_

"Thing," explained Elsie. "That's the actual name. She's vintage, you see."

"Served at Stalingrad," added the Englishwoman dryly.

"Oh, hush!"

"Import, eh?" said Henry as he pulled his coat from the hook near the door. "Well, that's all right, I'll bring it back to you anyway, little lady. You just sit tight."

"Be careful Henry," said the silver-haired woman. "It's really bad out there."

Henry winked back. "Always am, old girl."

And with that, he slipped on a pair of winter boots and was out the door.

Marilla sighed and turned to the two young women. "Well then, why don't you two put your coats in one of the booths to dry out – it's not like we'll be getting busy. Coffee?"

"Yes please," replied Elsie gratefully.

"Thank you," added Lara.

Marilla disappeared into the kitchen, giving Elsie a chance to survey her surroundings.

With its corner jukebox, red vinyl upholstery and various New York State sports pennants plastered on the walls, the diner had a distinctly '50s flavor to it: Elsie half expected the Fonz to burst through the door at any moment.

She ran her finger along the countertop's tarnished chrome edging.

It was unpretentious. Comfortable.

She liked it.

Aside from Lara and herself, the place was deserted – not entirely surprising given the storm percolating outside.

Tossing her coat, she joined Lara in one of the booths along the window, practically leaping onto the ribbed vinyl seat.

"Well, someone's excited," remarked the brunette with a smirk.

"Are you kidding?" exclaimed the blonde. "We're back on track!"

Lara gazed out into the thickly falling snow. "Let's not count our chickens just yet...at least not until they plow this road..."

The tabletop suddenly trembled, followed moments later by a deep rumble reverberating throughout the diner.

Elsie frowned. _Quake?_

"Do you feel...oh..."

A battered old wrecker slowly lumbered past the window, the massive vehicle shrugging off the foot-deep snow.

"Geez, we shoulda come in one of those," remarked the blonde, pressing her hands against the glass as the wrecker slowly disappeared into the darkness in the direction they'd come.

"And pay ten times the petrol," added Lara.

"I guess there's that," sighed Elsie, slouching back into her seat. "But a girl can dream, right?"

Lara's foot gently nudged hers under the table.

She grinned at the brunette. "Playing footsie, Lady Croft?"

The affectionate nudge was followed by a sharp kick.

"Don't call me that."

"Ouch! Okay, okay!"

Lara's expression turned serious as she absentmindedly folded and unfolded the corner of her napkin.

"Elsie...I..."

The archaeologist hesitated.

"What? Lara…?"

"That little scene at the airport..."

Elsie raised her palms. "I know, I'm sorry...I know you don't like PDA's..."

She reached across the table and grasped the archaeologist's hand. "But dammit, girl, I was just so happy to see you! Well, more than happy, more like ecstatic! I'll try and tone it down a little next time...the operative word being 'try'..."

"No...that's not what I was getting at," said Lara.

Elsie tilted her head. "Okay…what then?"

The brunette stared at their clasped hands, her thumb gently stroking the soft webbing of skin between the blonde's thumb and index finger.

"I was…worried, Elsie..."

"That I wouldn't find you in that crowd?"

A sigh. "No..."

She looked into the blonde's grey eyes. "I was worried that...after these last three months...you might've been sick and tired of seeing this face..."

Elsie jerked her hand back.

"You're kidding, right?"

"That welcome...I really appreciated that," said the Englishwoman softly.

Elsie promptly slid off her bench and rounded the table. Blatantly invading Lara's side of the booth, she threw her hips against the archaeologist's to make room for herself.

Stroking the hair covering the brunette's temple, the blonde slowly shook her head in disbelief.

"How could I ever get sick of this...?"

"I just...thought..."

"Don't," ordered Elsie, slowly trailing her fingertips down the curve of Lara's cheek, her index tracing the flank of the Lara's nose. "Do you have any idea how much I've looked forward to th-"

Plush lips pressed against Elsie's.

The American closed her eyes, her hand falling limply to her side. Soft warmth invaded her mouth.

The blonde melted.

Gods...

It had been so long. She'd dreamed of it...longed for it...

She opened her mouth wider to allow the brunette unfettered access to her vocal chords.

\- only to find the much longed-for warmth had abruptly retreated.

Her eyes popped open. "Hey, why'd -"

Lara was sitting quietly, her head propped up against her balled-up fist. To a casual observer she appeared resolutely sedate, but Elsie knew better: the twinkle in her eye made her look as though she'd just swallowed a canary.

The blonde glimpsed Marilla's growing reflection in the window glass, carafe and coffee mugs in hand. She mouthed a silent later to the brunette.

The silver haired woman drew up to the table and peered curiously at her guests.

"Expecting company?" she asked, nodding to the empty bench as she poured out the carafe's contents.

"Nah," said the blonde as she pressed her head to the Englishwoman's shoulder. "Just wanted to warm up a bit. Share body heat."

Marilla smiled. "Well aren't you two precious."

"She is," agreed Elsie, secretly wrapping her left leg around the brunette's under the table.

Marilla set the carafe on the tabletop. "Where are you girls headed, anyway?"

"Adirondacks," replied the blonde as Lara slid her a pair of creamers from the bowl. "We lucked in on a cottage near Lake Placid."

The woman's eyebrows shot up. "Ohh, nice area, that...going up there for the holidays?"

"Well...trying, anyway," returned Elsie, glancing out the window at the thickly falling snow.

Marilla nodded in understanding. "It's a bad one this year. But the roads will be plowed by morning, don't worry your pretty little head about that."

"Morning?" asked the blonde in concern. "Um..."

She looked at the brunette.

"Is there an inn nearby?" asked Lara.

The silver-haired woman laughed. "Out here? This is the only building for five miles in either direction, if you don't count derelict barns."

"But where -"

"You girls can crash here for the night," said Marilla, preempting Elsie's question. "It's not the most comfy of accommodations, grant you, but I won't turn you out into that God-awful mess, especially this close to Christmas..."

The blonde blinked. "We'd be in here by ourselves?"

The silver-haired woman smiled and pointed to the ceiling. "We live right upstairs...if you need anything we'll be right above you. Stairs are through the kitchen."

"Oh, okay," said the blonde, turning to Lara for approval. "Well, that's great then! Thank you!"

"In the meantime, we have some time before Henry gets back...would you girls like anything?"

Marilla's question had opened a glorious opportunity the blonde simply couldn't resist. She surreptitiously winked at the silver-haired woman.

"Do you guys have chicken beak salad?"

"Absolutely!" affirmed Marilla without missing a beat. "Any particular dressing?"

"Ranch, please."

"Not a problem," replied the silver-haired woman. She looked to Lara. "And you, sugar?"

Elsie turned to the brunette. Lara sat open-mouthed, sporting an expression of utter stupefaction.

She looked to the waitress and back to Elsie, and then back once more to the silver-haired woman.

"There...there truly is such a thing…?"

"Well sure, sugar," replied Marilla. "It's a traditional dish 'round these parts. This your first time to New England?"

"Just...to this particular part of it," returned the brunette.

She fixed her gaze on Elsie. "I was certain you were fibbing!"

"Oh ye of little faith," said the blonde, rolling her eyes for emphasis.

"Wait a moment," said the archaeologist. "How does one eat...chicken beaks? They're hard as stone!"

"You boil them, silly," explained Elsie. "They become like thick pasta."

"A bit like Farfalle, really," added Marilla helpfully.

Lara looked mildly nauseous. "I'm sorry, but that...is revolting..."

"Oh come on," said the blonde, elbowing the Englishwoman. "Where's your sense of adventure? You've eaten grubs for heaven's sake."

"In a survival situation!" clarified the brunette, nodding.

Elsie turned to the waitress. "Two chicken beak salads, please."

"No!" blurted Lara in horror. "No, I'd rather...may I see a menu, please?"

Elsie couldn't hold it in any longer - she burst out laughing.

Marilla threw up her hands. "Sorry," laughed the silver-haired woman. "I couldn't resist playing along."

The archaeologist fixed the blonde with a deathly stare.

"We'll take two servings of haggis, please," said the Englishwoman icily.

Elsie's laughter abruptly ceased.

She spun to the waitress. "PLEASE tell me that's not an option...?"

"Not to worry," said Marilla, wiping her eyes. "We've never made any, much less offer it...hang on, let me go get you some menus."

Elsie turned back to the brunette and began stroking Lara's arm apologetically.

"Oh ye of little faith?" growled the archaeologist. "Prepare yourself, Elsie Trainor, for when I get through with you you'll be shitting haggis for a week..."

~oOo~

Marilla grabbed the blanket and kissed her husband.

"Back in a bit," she said softly. "Just going to tuck in our girls downstairs..."

Henry smiled. "It is kinda like having kids again, ain't it?"

Marilla smiled as she set off down the staircase; with both sons serving overseas, she'd long since resigned herself to a sedate Christmas. That is, until the surprise arrival of their two guests.

She sighed to herself, half wishing the plows would go AWOL so as to retain the company of two young women a little longer: the pair had strongly triggered her motherly instincts.

Such beautiful kids...

Emerging from the narrow staircase, she passed through the dimly lit kitchen.

Pushing through the swinging doors that led to the diner proper, she quietly made her way to the girls' booth.

And stopped at the sight before her.

The two young women were slouched against each other, the side of Elsie's face pressed against the English girl's shoulder. The brunette's cheek rested atop the blonde's head protectively. They shared a pair of earbuds, the two white cables joining up at an iPhone laid out on the table.

The two were sound asleep, both girls sporting faint smiles of contentment.

Marilla slowly shook her head and smiled, the scene tugging on her heartstrings. Though clearly not related, the two obviously shared a special bond.

_Goodness… they remind me of Anna and Elsa..._

She drew forward and gently spread the blanket atop the bundled girls, being careful not to tug on the earbud wires.

"Mm?"

A sleepy pale grey eye peered up at her.

"It's all right," whispered Marilla, smiling as she lightly patted the girl's cheek. "It's almost midnight. Go back to sleep."

The blonde closed her eye and pressed her nose into her companion's neck, her dreamy smile returning. "Hmm..."

Marilla quietly collected the remaining dishes from the table and set off for the kitchen.

She hadn't noticed the tear slowly trickling down the brunette's cheek.


End file.
